


Santa Fe

by one_starry_night



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Intrigue, Investigative reporter Bughead, Kissing, Make-outs, Mystery, Potential sexual activity, Rating May Change, Romance, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, This was supposed to be a "fresh start" for Betty but then she meets Jughead, beautiful settings, falling in love unexpectedly, fast burn then slow burn possibly, if there's any sex in this fic it will be romantic, otp, possibly scoobying, scenic views, scoobying, something different, unexpected, unique
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2018-12-04 21:49:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11564010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_starry_night/pseuds/one_starry_night
Summary: AU. This story is an enigma. Crafted from my heart and the depths of my imagination. If I can pull it off - and that's a big IF - I envision this story being a Tony Hillerman style mystery mixed with my own comedic style of writing and a bit of a one-off romance.__Betty Cooper accepts a job offer in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Betty and Jughead don't know each other beforehand. When they do meet though, sparks fly.Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from Riverdale (TV) or Archie Comics. The characters from Riverdale are the intellectual property of Roberto Aguirre Sacasa. This story is just for fun and is not for profit.





	1. welcome home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty leaves Austin (and the Texas Border) behind along with her figurative baggage. Meanwhile, Jughead leaves the orange and purple lights of Santa Fe behind and heads home to his trailer for the evening. 
> 
>  
> 
> __  
> A mysterious intro for a mysterious fic.

1.

Santa Fe, New Mexico. Verbena, yarrow, and angel’s trumpets are just a few of the flowers daring the share a bed with the Mojave prickly pear cacti that litter the green grasses at the bottom of the mountains. You can’t see them from inside the city’s interior hub, but you know they are there. Occasionally, a few of them attempt to break free from the adobe, bricks, or cement. They end up sprouting outwards, growing well, however solitarily. The native plants display their right to grow in their place of origin, while the contemporary city dwellers say otherwise as they continue their development of the oldest capital city in North America.

 

The heartbeat of the city lies in its central plaza; its lifeblood extends to the adobe exteriors that were inspired centuries before by King Phillip II. Modern inhabitants traverse the same paths the Pueblo Indians took around the dwelling; they follow radiating paths that start from the center of the central plaza and end at its outskirts. These paths, in turn, are picked up by the wildlife of the area, inexplicably linking the man-made dwelling of the city to its raw hedges and greenery.

 

Santa Fe weather is almost a tragicomedy, only the show is one of perpetual duration. When night falls, thin veils of ice cover the streets and aloe plants. After several hours, there is light snow on the ground. At daybreak, the city becomes a desert again, hiding all traces of the ice that enveloped its walls and fences only hours before. The only constant in the city is the skyline; its “azul” as the natives say, not blue.

 

It’s dusk in Santa Fe. A young man with dark hair is walking briskly along the streets, passing the Cathedral towards the exterior of the city. Ice has already started supplanting the side walk, leaving a trail of light water and ice crystals on his boots. He pulls the collar of his jacket up to shield his neck from the cold wind that has drifted into town. His hands are in the pockets of his coat, fists clenched slightly as he makes his way to his modest abode. Home, a tiny mobile home community, is within walking distance of the central plaza. As he continues onward, he passes cacti peppered with tiny purple flowers as he crosses the sidewalk, which leads to a beaten path littered with rust colored rocks. He finds his way back with little effort, stopping to warm his hands with his breathe as he opens the door. And just like that, his silhouette vanishes from the patio as he steps inside.

 

Somewhere along the highway, not far removed from Santa Fe, a blonde girl is twirling a yellow flower in her hair as the wind glides through it. She’s smiling as the sun sets, the car wheels turning below her feet as the terrain rumbles beneath them. She’s taking in the expanse of scenery just beyond the horizon line; she sees desert canyons comingled with snowy mountain valleys, which are still in view as the car pulls into the sole gas station just beyond the city. She turns her head to look through the glass window. Her green eyes flicker to a rustic sign mere yards away: Welcome to Santa Fe, New Mexico.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you like this fic? 
> 
> Tumblr: It-happened-one-starry-night


	2. lone wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins...
> 
> If you enjoyed this, please comment. <3

2.

Dawn breaks in Santa Fe, flinging sunlight against the adobe exteriors and red earth. Pathways of light trickle into the city, melting the newly fallen snow. The unseen coyotes have already retreated to their dens – tiny rock outcroppings hidden beneath the trees and bushes in the nearby desert. Meanwhile, metal lamps in central plaza have all but dimmed, leaving a faint beam of light in their center.

 

It’s Betty Cooper’s first day in Santa Fe and she’s beyond thrilled to be away from Austin. She told herself that what she needed was a fresh start away from the city, which no longer resembled itself anyways. An influx of people from California had moved in during the last five years or so. And that was fine. California was great. If she had wanted to be in California, she would have moved there. But Austin wasn’t meant to be California, ever. In recent years, it had grown much larger than she remembered it. She told herself that relocating was something everyone had to do eventually. She had just been lucky to do it in a matter of months, securing a coveted salaried-position, much to the chagrin of her peers. The job included benefits, paid vacation time, and thankfully, was far removed from her old residence.

 

Betty is in awe as she opens the window of her tiny Hacienda, which flings open with ease at the touch of her fingertips. She draws back its linen curtains, which are subtly decorated with a boxy pattern – either a Spanish style _or_ Native American – Betty is unsure. The sunlight has painted a trail of red and yellow colors across the sky. Although the surrounding trees are laurel-like – some aspens, others cottonwood - the earth beneath them looks like rust and terracotta pottery dotted with the occasional wildflower.

 

Betty had arrived last night after sunset piling the last of her boxes in the corner of her new home, a Spanish-style Hacienda, from her car before midnight. Before opening the window, she was admiring the wooden bed that came with the place. It’s a king-size bed that appears to be made of what she can only assume is a very expensive wood – not acacia, no, it’s far too dark – the bed itself appears to be made of teakwood. It has all the appearance of a finely-carved antique; there are tiny floral etches against the headboard. The overall design look distinctly Navajo, but Betty remembers that she’s thinking of the wrong region, reminding herself they’re likely Pueblo-inspired, _not_ Navajo. As if the bed wasn’t reminiscent enough of a medieval alcala, there’s a matching armoire and desk paired with it.

 

Betty goes for a run, returning to shower and grab a mug of coffee. She doesn’t have long before the first day of her new jobs starts. She’s going to attempt to explore her new surroundings while she can, not expecting to have as much free time when she does. Odds are she’ll be putting in, at a minimum, at least fifty hours a week.

 

She strolls leisurely through the town square, noting that the town looks like something out of a Southwestern spread. She can hardly believe that Santa Fe – _the most charming city she thinks she’s ever seen_ \- is her new abode. She decides that there is no better way to christen her new place than with a tall vase of wildflowers in the center of her new kitchen. So, she goes in search of some flowers and hopefully, a little adventure.

 

At the edge of the city she spots a warm, floral palette; there appears to be a blanket of marigolds and poppies spread across the terrain, just ahead of some rocky hills. As she continues walking, her feet tread the regional desert, touching the ground for the first time. As if to greet her, the earth beneath her marks the occasion by covering the edges of her tennis shoes with a rust-colored sheen. She continues onwards. As she reaches the flowers, though, she lets out an ‘ _eee_ ’ and jumps back at the sight of a lizard. Unperturbed, she leans down to get a closer look at the flowers, picking one and thumbing the petals with her fingers.

 

Suddenly, Betty hears the unmistakable sound of footsteps behind her. Betty turns around, “ _Oh_ ,” she stands up slowly, hand brushing her chest and grasping her silver necklace between her fingers, “You startled me.”

 

Betty’s eyes move up and down the stranger ahead of her, noting the contrast of his silhouette against the Santa Fe terrain. His hair is jet black, eyes crystal-blue, and his skin is pale with yellow undertones. Compared to the scorched earth underfoot, he looks like the moon. He reminds her of a wolf, she thinks, and his coloring looks like it was borrowed from the mountains up ahead. She decides he looks like he belongs here; from where he’s standing, the top of his head blends in with the snow-covered mountains and black trees in the distance, but his skin blends in with the background; he looks like he could disappear in it.

 

“You can’t pick those, you know.” He’s insistent, but polite.

 

Betty places a hand on her hip loosely, suppressing a grin, “And why not? What are you, king of the field?”

 

Jughead recognizes the jab at his crown-shaped beanie adorning his head, he’s amused. “No, but I used to do that and got chastised once by a native. He said that picking a wildflower in Santa Fe ‘angers the spirits’ in the land.”

 

“King of the field and a weaver of tall tales, are we? I don’t believe such rot. Well, I don’t think they’re going to miss a few flowers, anyways. “Unless,” Betty pauses, looks him dead in the eye and feigns a concerned tone, “You’re not going to call the poppy police, _are you_?”

 

He thinks she’s _very_ pretty. Her sassy retort emboldens him to prod further.

 

“What’s your name? I’ve never seen you around here before. This town isn’t that big. Everyone kind of knows everyone here.”

 

“Like I’d tell you that. You’re the one creeping up on me.”

 

“Creeping?” Jughead scoffs, “Hardly, I live about five minutes from here.”

 

“ _Oh_ ,” Betty hesitates, then says rather tersely, “Well, if you don’t mind I’d like to continue enjoying my last few days of freedom before I start my new job.”

 

“So, you _did_ just move here. I knew you were new.”

 

“Not that it’s any of your business, _but yes_ , I did.”

 

“Where from? Or is that some big secret, too.” Jughead grinned, shoving his hands back into his jacket.

 

“Wouldn’t you like to know and are you always this rude?”

 

He grins. Noting her irritation, he offers his name as a consolation, “Jughead, my name is Jughead. Look, your obviously very busy so I’ll just let you be.”

 

“What?”

 

“It’s not my real name, obviously. But it’s what I go by.”

 

“Well, _Jug-head_ , I’d like to spend the rest of my morning in peace. So, _if you don’t mind_ …”

 

Jughead cuts her off gently, “Suit yourself, but this place can be confusing if you haven’t been here before. If you ever need directions or anything, I live up that hill. Jughead motions behind him, “My mailbox is blue.”

 

“Thank you.” Betty didn’t mean to dismiss him completely, she thought he was _very_ handsome, but it had been awhile since she’d been on a date and she wasn’t about to let him know that.

 

Jughead smirked. Then, he turned on the heels of his leather boots and walked off.

 

Betty mulled over what he had told her for a second. Since she had just moved here, it was nice to know where he lived _if_ (she reasons) she he ever had questions about the area. She would consider looking him up in a few days. _Maybe._


	3. nameless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Betty and Jughead hang out (or rather, Jughead chases her down and insists that he go skiiing with her because she's "new to the area."). Shameless flirting ensues. But wait, there's more to come still...
> 
> If you enjoyed this fic, please drop me a comment below. Thanks!

3.

Betty still doesn’t understand the weather, not that it isn’t _like_ Austin weather per se, but it’s still a thing she needs to acclimate to. At night, she’s freezing as frost frames her windowsill, but when dawn breaks, heat spreads beneath her covers; she usually wakes up to discover that she’s pulled half her clothes off from sweating so much. And since she’d just about unpacked everything (mostly), she decides she needs to learn how to ski. After all, she’s a local now and unlike Texas, there is actual snow nearby. True to form, Betty rises at the crack of dawn, dresses hastily, and goes into town for her daily fix (a caffeine jolt). She’s surprised at how good the coffee is in Santa Fe (she had been spoiled in Austin, which had coffee almost as good at Portland, but anyways). When Betty grabs her expresso, she thanks the barista and turns to leave when she sees _him_ again.

 

Jughead grins at the chance meeting as he looks up from his laptop, “Getting your fix, too? Why am I not surprised that you’re a caffeine addict? Where are you going this early anyways? The sun is barely out. Or is this one of your many mysteries that you aren’t going to give me an answer to?”

 

“It’s not really your business where I go now, is it? “Betty sips her expresso nonchalantly, wondering what he’ll say next.

 

“Fair enough,” Jughead concedes, “but at least tell me your name.”

 

“I don’t think so, Jughead. And what are you doing here anyways, the sun is barely out?” She echoes his words back to him, which makes him chuckle immensely. Shameless flirting, yeah, that might be what she’s doing with him.

 

“Doing work.”

 

“Oh, what kind of work?”

 

“Wouldn’t you like to know and who’s being nosey now, _but_ I’ll tell you _if_ you tell me your name. That’s all I’ll ask, I promise.”

 

“Mmm, I think not.”

 

“Come on now, I’ll ask the barista if you don’t tell me. Where are you going? It’s just one question and I’ll back off.”

 

“Fine. I’m going skiing. Bye Jughead, enjoy your work!”

 

Betty smirks as she opens the door to the morning.

 

Jughead begins typing. Five minutes in he realizes (or at least assumes, she’s probably not used to skiing and he should warn her to start slow; it’s the gentlemanly thing to do after all). So, he grabs his laptop, takes one last swig of his coffee before tossing it and heads out, turning the keys in his pick-up quickly as his car blazes up the mountains.

 

And after about twenty minutes, his hunch is correct. He spots the blonde girl heading upwards, carrying a pack of heavy gear. He rolls down the window gliding beside her.

 

“Hey, again.”

 

Betty rolls her eyes, suppressing a grin. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t enjoying the attention because he is hot (and she’s decided he’s definitely her type). But she’s not looking to date, she swears. This is meant to be a fresh start and a boyfriend (or guy for that matter) isn’t meant to be in the equation, period.

 

“Am I allowed to ask where your skiing today, or is that also some big mystery.”

 

“You are so annoying,” Betty smiles, “Fine, I’m going to Widow’s peak. Happy now, Jughead?”

 

“You’re kidding, right? Widow’s peak is dangerous, and definitely _not_ the slope for a beginner.”

 

“Who said I was a beginner?”

 

“Okay, have you ever even been skiing before?”

 

“Well, no, not exactly.”

 

“Not exactly or ‘no?’”

 

It _was_ a fair question.

 

“Where are you from, anyways?”

 

Betty smirks and keeps walking as she looks ahead.

 

“Still not telling then, so I’m guessing there was no snow or mountains there? Is my hunch correct - _yes_?”

 

“That’s private.”

 

“Oh, alright then. Well, even so, I don’t think you should be taking _that_ slope.”

 

“I think I can handle myself just fine, thanks.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yes, alright,” But then Betty changes her mind as his car continues onwards, but he hasn’t sped up quite yet.

 

“Wait, I could use a lift. This gear is getting heavy.”

 

“Why didn’t you take your car up the mountain?”

 

“Well I did, but decided to walk halfway. I need to get some exercise in before I start my new job.”

 

“Where are you working?”

 

“Like I’d tell you that. And do you _always_ act like a reporter?”

 

“Okay,” he’s mildly amused by her statement for reasons unknown to her, “No more questions. Hop in. Jughead gets out of the car and takes her supplies from her, placing them in the back of his pick-up truck.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“No problem.”

 

They drive quietly for fifteen minutes, which allows Betty to study the interior of his car (and him).

 

“So, I take it you’re not married? You look kind of young.”

 

“Nosey much, and _no_ , I’m not married. Does it matter? I don’t see a ring on your finger either.”

 

“I never said I was. Just making conversation.”

 

There is a moment of silence between them, when Jughead adds playfully, “You know, I’ve driven you all the way up the mountain, you could at least tell me your name.”

 

“Maybe later.”

 

When they pull up to the ski lodge, Betty gets out of the car and grabs her gear, “Later, Jughead.” Betty grins at him from her rearview mirror.

 

“Oh no you don’t,” Jughead hops out of his truck and snatches a ski away from her before she has a chance to walk away.

 

“What?”

 

“I’m coming with you.”

 

“ _No_ , you’re not, I barely know you.”

 

“Yeah, but you’re taking a dangerous slope.”

 

“I fail to see how that’s any of your concern.”

 

“Just a concerned citizen,” Jughead flashes her his brightest smile, “Come on, let me go with you.”

 

“ _Fine_.” She’s irritated with herself for agreeing – ‘ _No dating, Betty. Come on girl, no guys. This is supposed to be your time, even if he is really cute_.’

 

When they finally make it to the first slope, Betty isn’t feeling so confident (the slope is steeper than she’d ever imagined). Perhaps he was right, but she’s stubborn and not about to let him know that.

 

“Okay, here’s goes nothing.”

 

“Wait,” Jughead stops her, grabbing her arm, “Aren’t you going to fasten that?”

 

“Fasten what?”

 

“Your helmet? It’s not even buckled yet.”

 

“Oh.” Betty looks down at the helmet, its unlocked and the vision of its snap is so close that it strains her eyes. When she looks up again, he’s right in front of her face. She watches his dark eyebrows and blue eyes as he clicks the lock in place. ‘This could be fun, _fuck_.’ Betty chastises herself for even going there. But he’s just so close that she can really see him now, all of him, and she likes what she sees. He catches her staring at him, grins and walks back to his spot.

 

“Okay, ready?”

 

Betty just stands there, not moving.

 

“Ready?” Jughead asks her again playfully.

 

“Of course…”

 

“So, why are you just standing there?”

 

“Oh, I just need a minute. That’s all.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Several minutes pass and he begins to laugh.

 

“Are you laughing at me?”

 

“No,” Jughead suppresses his laugh immediately.

 

“ _You are_ , aren’t you?”

 

“It’s just funny. You were so eager to ski and now you’re just standing there scared.”

 

“Whatever.”

 

“I’m kidding,” He puts his hand on her shoulder, “ _I’ll go first_.”

 

“No, we’ll go at the same time. Okay – _wait_!”

 

Betty takes off, she’s having fun, but soon things are going way too fast for her and she can’t stop. Luckily, Jughead sees this from above and rushes down to her; she’s still not stopping.

 

‘Oh no - make it stop - _please_.”

 

“ _Ow_!” Betty lands uncomfortably as Jughead rushes to her.

 

He stops and gets out of his skis and walks over to her to help her up, “Are you okay? I warned you this slope is rough.”

 

“Its fine,” Betty shakes the snow off of her and attempts to get up, but then she feels a jolt of pain from her ankle. “Oww.”

 

“Don’t move, I’m going to get someone.”

 

“No, I’m fine.” Betty attempts to stand again, it doesn’t work. “Ow, that hurts.” Betty wipes a tear off her eye, she doesn’t want to cry in front of him.

 

“I think you might have twisted your ankle. I’m going to get these skis off of you. Okay? They can ski up here and pick them up, we’ll just leave these here.”

 

Before she knows what’s happening, Jughead is picking her up and carrying her down the rest of the way. She doesn’t protest because despite the pain, it feels nice for someone to be taking care of her like this. She hasn’t really had that in a long time, living on her own for several years now.

 

“There’s a medic inside, do you want me to take you there?”

 

Betty nods as he carries her inside when he places her in the waiting room, his phone buzzes. “Oh dear, its work, I’m so sorry I have to take this – ten minutes. Will you be okay?”

 

She nods.

 

When he comes back in, she’s already checked out and is sitting in the waiting area with a bandage on her ankle.

 

“I’m sorry that took so long.”

 

It’s okay. They said it was a mild sprain, but that I shouldn’t be walking around much today or tomorrow. Betty rolls her eyes, annoyed at her situation, “Great, now what will I do.”

 

“Well, what were you going to do?”

 

“Explore the city. But how am I going to do that now if I can’t walk around?”

 

She looks upset, so he offers her an alternative.

 

“Come hang out with me.”

 

“What?”

 

“Well, I’m just going to watch tv at my house. Otherwise, I’ll drop you off at yours. Your pick.”

 

“Okay.” Betty sighs. She has nothing else to do now, considering the circumstances. He picks her up and carries her to the car. When they get to his house, she sees the blue mailbox in front of a trailer, which looks well kept.

 

“So, this is where you live?”

 

“I know it doesn’t look like much, but it’s home and it’s so close to downtown that I can walk there.”

 

When Betty attempts to open he door, he runs over to help her, “Here, allow me.”

 

“Oh, you don’t have to carry me Jughead.”

 

“Didn’t the doctor say to not walk on your foot today?”

 

Yeah, but…” and she’s in his arms in one swoop.

 

Please ignore my dog, Hot Dog. Betty hears barking as soon as they are up the front steps, which are decorated with cacti in tiny, colorful pots. She’s seen a lot of those around the city.

 

When he opens the door, Betty is pleasantly surprised by how nice the inside looks. He has the same signature wooden furniture as she does in her Hacienda and there’s a zigzag tapestry on the wall in the dining room.

 

“Wow.”

 

“Well, what did you think the inside would look like?”

 

“I’m not sure.”

 

Jughead places her on the leather couch and heads to the kitchen. “Do you want something? Wine? A beer? _Do you have a name_?” Jughead isn’t looking at her as he slips that in and she’d almost answered. _Almost._

 

“Clever, Jughead. Bring nameless here a beer.” He grins, still looking inside his fridge.

 

When he sits down he places two beers on the wooden center table and turns on the tv.

 

“Any requests?”

 

Betty shakes her head, noting that he’s sitting very close to her and she doesn’t care. She’s thrown her no dating policy out the window because of him and its fucking annoying.

 

After an hour of watching the sports channel, Jughead gets up again, “Would you like some ice or anything else, nameless?

 

Betty grins, “Yes to both.”

 

“And what about dinner?”

 

She’s starving. “What have you got?”

 

“Oh, I can whip up something for the two of us.”

 

Jughead comes back and places an ice pack on her ankle and sits a beer with a sliced lime in front of her. She flips through the channels as she hears him rummaging about in the kitchen.

 

“What are you making anyways?”

 

“Nosey much?”

 

Betty scowls at him as he grins at her from the stove; he’s using her words and throwing them back in her face, yep he’s definitely flirting with her and she _loves_ it. She flips through the channels as she downs her second beer easily.

 

After half an hour, he returns with a multi-colored bowl that has steam rising from its top, “Here we are.”

 

“What is it?” Betty is starving, but still dares to ask.

 

“Ancho chicken and chipotle…with some spice.”

 

She mumbles, ‘mmm’ and starts eating it quickly.

 

Jughead stops her in between bites of his own, “Okay, nameless, I know something about you now. You’ve had this kind of food before, which leads me to deduce that you must be from the Southwest or near it because otherwise, you would have complained about the spice.”

 

“Guilty,” but that’s all your getting out of me and _only_ because you made me this.

 

He grins and takes another bite of his food and much later, Betty doesn’t stop him when he brings her another beer, noting the rim is salted and there’s another fresh lime at the top.

 

She’s tipsy now at an almost strangers house. She doesn’t do things like this normally. Hot Dog saunters over and sits next to Jughead on the floor and looks at her.

 

“Your dog looks bored.”

 

“I normally take him out at this time, but not today. He’ll manage a day without,” he grins at Hot Dog and looks at her.

 

Betty doesn’t quite know how it happened, but it’s past midnight when she wakes up and she’s laying on Jughead with her arm completely around his waist. He’s asleep, too. She wonders if he noticed she was laying on him. She decides he must have because he wakes up at the same time she does.

 

“Hey, nameless.”

 

“It’s late, I should get back.”

 

“Oh okay, do you want me to take you home?”

 

Betty knows she shouldn’t be doing this, it’s against everything she stands for, but fuck if it didn’t feel good to snuggle with a guy again.

 

“I mean, I don’t want to put you out.”

 

“You’re not.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

He grins, “Yes. You can stay here if you like.”

 

“But I barely know you?”

 

“Well, for someone who doesn’t know me nameless, you sure had your arm wrapped tightly around me earlier.”

 

Betty blushes, “This is a bad idea, I should go, can we go?”

 

Jughead grabs her hand, “It’s okay, really. I was just giving you a hard time.”

 

“I…”

 

“What is it?”

 

“I don’t really _do_ things like this.”

 

“Do what?”

 

“You know.”

 

“We had beers and watched the sports channel nameless, that hardly constitutes doing things you know. Care to enlighten me about what you meant by ‘doing things’ anyways?”

 

Betty’s cheeks heat up.

 

Jughead pulls her onto him again and covers her with a blanket.

 

“You’re not supposed to be walking around, remember?!”

 

She nods, as his arm snakes around the couch and settles above her shoulders. He turns the tv back on and she doesn’t even pretend to _not_ cuddle him, instead, she moves her hand around his waist, settles there, falling asleep on his chest.

 

And the next day, the Santa Fe sun flashes across her retinas and wakes her up. She forgets where she is for a moment because she’s covered in an Indian blanket and she’s lying next to someone ( _no, snuggling them_ ), she knows she doesn’t have a boyfriend. She had fallen asleep on him and the pair had slept like that the entire night.

 

“Hey,” Jughead sits up and runs his hand through his hair. She notes that he’s finally not wearing that hat.

 

Betty blushes, “That was.”

 

“Nice?” Jughead grins at her.

 

“I should go, I’m sorry. Can you take me home?”

 

“Sure, but on one condition, nameless. Tell me your name.”

 

Betty hesitates.

 

“Are you always this rude?”

 

Betty punches him playfully as he echoes her words back to him for the millionth time.

 

Jughead grabs her hand. “Kidding. Have dinner with me tonight?”

 

Betty grins, Alright.”

 

When Jughead’s truck pulls up to her house, Betty wonders if she should kiss him. She decides to wait, though. She doesn’t want him to get the wrong idea.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Not a problem.”

 

He grins as he opens the car door for her. Betty is taken aback when he grabs her keys from her hand and swoops her up.

 

“W-what are you doing, Jughead?”

 

“Carrying you into your house? The sprained ankle, remember?” He looks down at the bandage. Then Betty remember again and feels silly.

 

“Oh. Right.” She smiles as he opens her door and sets her onto the couch cushion.

 

Jughead places her keys onto her counter and turns to smile at her, “See you at six, nameless.”

 

And he’s out the door.

 


	4. cafe pasqual

4.

Betty is thinking about last night. She decides that she probably shouldn’t have spent the night; at least, that’s what she tells herself when she climbs off the couch carefully to avoid straining her ankle. She walks over to the window in her living room and slides the beige linen curtains aside, revealing her unfenced backyard. Just ahead, her eyes catch a glimpse of the clouds overhanging the mountains in the distance. Light violet streaks encircle the bottom of the mountains and the hills beneath them are covered in a cloudy haze. She watches as the sun brushes against the top of the mounds sticking out of the ground, spreading red light across them. Although it’s a long way off, she can still make out the snow covering the ridges of the mountains hidden beneath the billowing masses. Her gaze lingers a little in admiration; everything about this place is just breathtaking. Soon her eyes flicker to the Hacienda next to hers. The adobe, she notes, blends seamlessly with the ground beneath it; it looks as though it was carved from the ground up and set to bake in the sun.

 

Betty has a few hours to kill before her date with Jughead. She showers quickly and blow-dries her hair. Her mind begins to wander as the mild heat hits her blonde tresses, ‘It _is_ a date, right? Betty, should you _really_ be doing this? What about the promise you made yourself: a fresh start once you were outside the Austin city limits? But fuck, if he was a perfect gentleman the entire time; maybe it’s time to play nice. He’s _not_ your ex, give him a chance.’ Betty slips into something cozy, but quickly changes her mind; she grabs a dark navy dress – it’s classic, but a little casual. She curls her hair with a flatiron, puts on three coats of mascara, and then carefully selects a perfume from one of several on her vanity, spritzing her wrist lightly.

 

She examines her appearance one last time. She looks pretty (she thinks), but doesn’t want to appear as though she’s trying too hard; she was trying to avoid dating in the first place and now she’s thinking that was a tad presumptuous on her part. She sighs. Then, she goes into her living room and lays across the leather sofa to give her foot a break, turning on the tv to drown out the silence. She looks down at her ankle for a moment, wondering if she should let her new boss know what happened. Probably. She _definitely_ won’t be able to wear heels the first week and she’s still a little unsure of the dress code at this new job. So, she grabs her iPad and scrolls through the list of contacts, finding the address she needs after a few seconds. She copies it and sends a quick message to her supervisor.

 

**Subject: dress code issue **

 

Good afternoon-

 

I arrived in Santa Fe several days ago and I’ve settled in nicely. Unfortunately, I had a mishap and won’t be able to wear heels to work for a few days. Please let me know if you need a doctor’s note. I assume the dress code is business causal. Please let me know that you received this message. Thank you!

 

Warm Regards,

Ms. Cooper

 

Betty sighs again, ‘So much for making a good first impression with a black skirt-suit.’ She gets up from the leather sofa carefully and walks over to the kitchen, pouring herself a small glass of rose, savoring the delicate flavor against her lips. Minutes later, she settles back down on the sofa, covering her bottom half with a chenille blanket. She only half pays attention to the television when her eyelids begin to close. No sooner has Betty Cooper fallen asleep when she hears a light rap at the door. Her green eyes flick open at the sound as the chenille blanket slides down her legs easily. The wooden doors and cement floor seem to make the knock echo much more loudly against the adobe exterior, something she isn’t quite used to yet. She gets up slowly so as not to appear too eager when she opens the door.

 

_Shit. He looks really good._

 

Jughead is standing there in a light blue button up and dark jeans. Betty also notes that for once, he isn’t wearing his beanie. He smiles and she looks down at his hands, noticing that he’s carrying a tiny cactus in a clay pot with two purple flowers on it.

 

“It’s a welcome to the neighborhood present, Santa Fe style. May I come in?”

 

Betty grins and opens the door. Jughead sets the plant onto her kitchen counter and turns to look at her. He eyes her up and down briefly and gives her the brightest smile. He’s clearly noticed her efforts to look nice, which makes her blush profusely.

 

“How’s the foot?”

 

“Better.”

 

“I know you can’t walk around a lot, so I thought I would drive us in town rather than have us walk there, although the weather tonight is perfect for a stroll. You should see the town square lit up at night, the adobe buildings look like giant candles in the dark. There’s really nothing quite like it.”

 

“That sounds lovely.”

 

“So, you haven’t seen it yet?”

 

“Not yet, but I hope to once my ankle heals. Anyways, I’ll get my coat.” Betty reaches for the black leather coat on the wooden chair next to her couch, but Jughead stops her, “Allow me.”

 

Jughead grabs the coat as she puts her arms through the sleeves, “Thank you.”

 

“Shall we.”

 

Jughead holds the door open for Betty. When Betty locks her door outside the Hacienda, Jughead swoops her up again and carries her to his truck before she can protest, setting her down carefully on the passenger side. Betty grins as he walks around to the driver’s seat and revs up the engine.

 

“So where are we going, Jughead?”

 

“Somewhere nice, nameless.”

 

“Do I get a name for this restaurant?”

 

“Do I get name for the woman I’m driving?” Jughead grins, “I’m taking you somewhere that the locals eat. It’s called Café Pasqual’s. Their New Mexican cuisine is legendary and they have an art gallery there.”

 

“So, is this a date?” Betty hadn’t meant to blurt that out.

 

“It might be. But I’d have to _actually_ know your name for that now, wouldn’t I?”

…

Jughead finds parking easily, and parks close to the restaurant so that Betty doesn’t have to walk too far. He helps her out of the car. For a minute, Betty wonders if she should hold his hand. She decides against it as he walks ahead of her and opens the door to a beautifully lit café with white stucco walls. Betty observes the brightly colored paintings on the walls as Jughead gives the hostess his first name. There’s a decent wait, so they sit.

 

“Do you want something to drink? I’m going to grab a beer at the bar.”

 

“That would be great. Thank you.”

 

Jughead returns in minutes with two Dos Equis, “I know you can’t really walk around the gallery, but we could go sit and look at a few pictures, if you’re up for it. They have a couple of Bruce King paintings here. And anyways, we might be waiting for a little while.”

 

“Who?”

 

“He’s fantastic. Come on, I’ll show you.”

 

Jughead grabs her hand and leads her over to the gallery by the side of the restaurant. Instinctively, Betty laces her fingers in his. She notes that he has rather nice hands; they are soft, but firm and he has long slender fingers. He leads her over to the nearest seat, pulling her along gently. They sit on a wooden bench across from a large painting of horses running in a desert.

 

“Wow, that’s lovely.”

 

“If you like that, you should let me take you to the Georgia O’Keefe museum.”

 

Betty starts laughing.

 

“What’s funny?” Jughead grins at her, sipping his beer. He wiggles his eyebrows, “Am I amusing you? Seriously though, what are you laughing at?”

 

“Is it,” she tries to suppress her laughter, “Is it true that her paintings are really just women’s genitalia in disguise? Most of them look like a…” Betty’s voice trailed off. She didn’t want to say _the_ word in front of him in such a nice restaurant.

 

Jughead raises his eyebrows at her as he smiles at her, “That’s a myth. Where did you hear that anyways?” Jughead looks at her, awaiting a response as he sips his beer leisurely.

 

“Um,” But before Betty has a chance to respond, her reply is cut short as a waiter appears at the side of the wall and smiles apologetically as if she had intruded on something private.

 

“Jughead, party of two?”

 

“That’s us,” Jughead helps her up, not letting go of her hand.

 

As they approach the table, Jughead pulls a chair out for Betty and waits until she’s comfortably seated before he sits down.

 

“Thanks.”

 

After they place their orders, the waitress appears with two more beers and sets them at the table.

 

“So, nameless, are you ever going to tell me your name? This could get really awkward if we go on like this.”

 

“Like what? You’re the one that wouldn’t tell me earlier if this was a date or not.”

 

Jughead looks at her and shakes his head as he smiles, which causes Betty to have some inappropriate thoughts.

 

“Well?”

 

“I’ll think about it.”

 

“Tell you what, I’ll make a deal with you.” Jughead crosses his arms and inches a bit closer to her at the table, “ _If_ you have a terrible time tonight, I’ll take you home, no questions asked.”

 

“And what’s the alternative?”

 

“If you have fun, I’ll still take you home, but you have to tell me your name.”

 

“That’s it?”

 

“Yep. That’s it. Can you handle one meal with me? I mean, I would take you somewhere else, but were kind of limited on options here on account of your ankle.”

 

“Okay.” Betty looks down at the table and chugs half her beer. Her eyes don’t leave his as she tilts the glass upwards.

 

“But can I just say, I did warn you about that slope.”

 

Betty scrunches her face at him.

 

Their plates arrive quickly. Betty rubs her hands together, “Huevos rancheros – my favorite. And it looks as though they added hatch chilis _and_ jalapenos, yum!”

 

“Okay, are you sure you aren’t from Santa Fe?”

 

“I’m sure.”

 

“Arizona? No, California?”

 

“Nope. Wrong on both guesses there.”

 

“Then where?”

 

“Maybe I’ll tell you at the end of the night.”

 

Jughead smirks. Clearly, she’s not going to make this easy for him, but he decides this could be worth it.

…

Betty had done it again. By the time they had finished dinner, she was smiling at Jughead, not even keeping her guard up as she laughed at his jokes. She was tipsy; she wanted to be tipsy around him and she decided that she didn’t want to go back to her house this early. At least, not yet.

 

Jughead held the door open for her, walking ahead to pop the car door open. As they got into his truck, he started the car engine. Within seconds, the truck was blazing down the street.

 

Jughead adjusted the radio a little as the speakers emitted a gentle melody in the front of the truck.

 

“Are you having fun, nameless?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Looks like I’m on my way to learning your name then.”

 

“Wait,” The alcohol is already working its magic, Betty thinks. She places her hand on his arm and says rather warmly (she surprises even herself in this moment), “We don’t have to go home just yet.”

 

Jughead looks at her hand and grins. “No? Where would you like to go? I’d love to take you somewhere in town, but I was thinking of your ankle.”

 

“Oh yeah, I’d forgotten.” She’s silent for a moment as Jughead looks at her. “We can go back to your place.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Betty smiles and nods. There isn’t a lot to do at my place anyways. I finally just finished unpacking everything, but I do have cable. That’s about it. Oh, and wine. I have wine at my place.”

 

Jughead smirks, “As you wish, nameless.”

 

When they pull up to his house, Jughead gets out of the car and scoops her up again.

 

“Jughead,” Betty laughs because she’s tipsy. “You didn’t carry me to front entrance of the restaurant. Someone is being ridiculous.” Betty wraps her arms around his neck, allowing her fingers to brush over the back of his hair. She’s not even thinking straight as she begins to play with one of his black curls.

 

“How so?” Still carrying her, he unlocks the door and steps inside.

 

“Because.”

 

“Maybe I _like_ carrying you.”

 

Betty’s face flushes as their eyes meet and he looks at her. He sets her down on the couch and walks towards the kitchen before she can question him again.

 

“Do you want a water, nameless?”

 

“Are you saying that I _need_ water?”

 

“Maybe. Do you want one anyways?”

 

“Yes. Wait - I’ll have a water _and_ a beer please.”

 

“You got it.” Jughead sets her drinks in front of her and goes back to the fridge to grab a coke and a beer for himself.

 

When he returns, Jughead plops down right next to her and turns on the tv. “Want to watch a movie?”

 

Betty nods. Truth be told, she wants to cuddle, too.

 

Jughead smiles and move his arm around the couch above her head. Half an hour into the movie, she’s finished half her beer. She leans onto his chest and they proceed to watch the movie for another fifteen minutes when Betty feels his arm come around her. Betty isn’t thinking clearly (perhaps she shouldn’t be doing this, but she feels so content in this moment); she grabs his hand and holds it for the remainder of the movie, pressing her head against his chest. She’s comfortable like this, with him. She doesn’t want to leave, but at the same time she doesn’t trust herself around him. She’s already stared at his mouth, deciding that he’s probably a good kisser. She’s also wondered what else he’d be good at…

 

“Another movie? Please let me know if there’s something else you’d prefer to watch.”

 

“No, this is fine,” Betty whispers, “I _like_ this.” Betty isn’t sure if she’s referencing the movie or the fact that he’s holding her hand back, swirling his thumb against the pad of her hand.

 

Jughead gets up and puts on another movie. When he returns, he wraps his arm around Betty again, grabs her hand, and presses ‘play’ with the other remote. Thirty minutes into the second movie, Betty grabs the blanket behind her and spreads it across their legs. Jughead glances at her, and she leans on his chest, wrapping her arm around his waist. He sighs and shifts so that she’s laying on him a little more. It’s more comfortable for both of them that way.

 

 

…

It’s late now and Betty is nodding off. She shakes the feeling off briefly, realizing that she’s still snuggling him. Jughead stares at her unabashedly and gives her the biggest smile she’s seen since their first encounter.

 

“I should go.”

 

“So soon, nameless?” Jughead looks down at her and smiles.

 

Betty has the overwhelming urge to kiss him, they’re so close like this, and she figures, ‘Hey, why _not_ have a bit of fun before work starts.’ She snaps out of it, though, before she gives herself the opportunity to do something foolish because fuck if she wouldn’t _love_ to be in a compromising situation with him.

 

“Yeah, will you take me home?”

 

“Of course, I’ll get your coat. Wait here.”

 

It’s past midnight when Jughead’s pick-up truck pulls up to her Hacienda.

 

Betty doesn’t say anything. There’s a comfortable silence between them as she glances over at him.

 

Jughead places his hands on the steering wheel and looks at her, “Well, the night has come to an end. What’ll it be nameless? Will you tell me your name, or is this…”?

 

Betty leans in and kisses his cheek, leaving her lips there a little longer than normal. She pulls away from his face slowly and smiles, “It’s Betty. My name is Betty.”

 

“ _Betty_.” He repeats her name with a smile. “So, you had fun tonight then, Betty?

 

She nods.

 

He smiles and grabs a pen from his dash. Then, he grabs her hand and gently writes his number across the top of it, blowing on the ink playfully, “Call me if you need a tour of Santa Fe.”

 

“A tour?” Betty looks confused, “But I thought that…”

 

“I’ll take you somewhere fun _and_ I’ll treat you to a nice dinner afterwards. So, it’s a date, an _actual_ one.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Betty attempts to get out of the car, but Jughead unbuckles his seatbelt and scrambles out of his seat to stop her. He opens the car door, “Sprained ankle, remember?”

 

“Oh. Yes.” Betty allows him to carry her into her house again. She’d had three beers, so she has no will power to fight him. If he wants to carry her into her house, she’d let him. He lays her down on the couch and throws a blanket over her. Then, he grabs a white fluffy pillow from the edge of the couch and as he puts it behind her back, he sweeps his hand under her hair and pulls it to the side. She’s getting used to him taking charge and she likes it.

 

“I should head out now, let you rest that ankle of yours.” Jughead pulls an invisible thread on the blanket covering her. Then, he gets up from the couch to show himself out, placing his hands in his jean pockets, “Bye, _Betty_.”

 

“Bye. _Wait_ \- Jughead?”

 

He stops and turns around.

 

“Thank you for dinner. That was really nice.”

 

“It was my pleasure. When can I see you again?”

 

“I’ll let you know.”

…

When Jughead gets home, he’s smiling from ear to ear. He opens his laptop in the kitchen, and sees several new emails from work. He begins to answer them one by one. Then, he stops for a moment, ‘Betty.’ He’s thinking about her, wondering why her name sounds familiar somehow.

Jughead pauses and opens the next email. He types a quick response and sends it.

 

**RE: Work Issue**

 

Ms. Cooper –

 

Not a problem, we don’t enforce the dress code that harshly due to the unpredictable weather here. So, to answer your question, business casual attire is fine.

 

Warm Regards,

Forsythe Pendleton Jones III

Supervisor

 

After glancing over the remainder of his emails, Jughead sits back against the wooden chair, placing his hands behind his head. He smiles because he likes her and he’s pretty sure she _could_ like him back at some point down the road.

 


	5. la fonda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Betty and Jughead's night on the town takes an unexpected turn. 
> 
> Please comment. It really means a lot.

> "After she ran away, she went to Sante Fe
> 
> And in the year that she stayed there, she learned about life
> 
> In just a little while, she learned that with a smile
> 
> She could have pretty clothes, she could be any man's wife."
> 
> -Lyrics: _Feleena (From El Paso)_ by Marty Robbins

 

5.

“I cannot _believe_ you thought that her artwork looked like _a_ …”

 

“ _Stop_ ,” Betty cuts him off by grabbing his hand. He looks over at her and smirks.

 

Dusk has hit the city again, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, which threaten to overthrow the blue beneath the horizon. Betty and Jughead stroll leisurely through the town square. Having spent the entire day together, first at the museum, and then at another local café, Betty is worried that she is falling hard for the man strolling beside her. Of course, that would mean that she’s broken all her own rules, the first of which was her no dating policy that she came up with before she ever even hit the outer city limits. And she can’t be in love with him (she decides) because although they’ve shared a lot with each other, Betty has deliberately not told him about her upcoming job _or_ her last name. So, in her mind, Betty reasons – _this_ – whatever it is between them is totally okay and casual (at least, for now).

 

“I want to take you for a stroll around the city, if you’re up for it.”

 

“Okay,” Betty follows his lead as he takes them both down a sidewalk. As they cross the street, lights begin to pop up all around them, illuminating the street and the tall, red buildings on either side of them.

 

“Wow,” Betty offers. It isn’t the most creative word, but she’s a little distracted by intrusive thoughts of what _might_ occur later that night. She’s already decided that she’s going to make a move on him when they get back to his place (and they _totally_ will because she’s been there practically every night this entire week). Unless, that is, _he_ makes the first move.

 

“I know, right? This is what I wanted you to see on our first night out, but alas, your ankle.”

 

“Why are you still giving me a hard time about that still, it hurt.”

 

“I know it did. I wasn’t minimizing your pain, but I did warn you about that slope.”

 

“Whatever.” Betty laughs. She’s finding it harder to string together sentences around him and it’s annoying; she feels like she’s seventeen again.

 

As they approach the plaza, Betty glances upwards at the five-story building up ahead. And while it’s exterior is in the same adobe style of the surrounding area, this building (for whatever reason) really sticks out to her.

 

“Jughead,” Betty stops near the steps of the building, “What is this place?”

 

Still holding her hand, he stands in front of her and looks up, “It’s a hotel, wanna go inside?”

 

Betty nods.

 

“You have good taste, nameless,” Jughead pulls her up the wooden steps of the building and opens the door for her, “La Fonda, here, is one of the oldest historic hotels in the area. Legend has it that it was built on the sight of the first inn in Santa Fe dating back all the way to the 1600’s.”

 

“But can you back that up with facts? Or is it mere puffery?”

 

“You know,” Jughead raises an eyebrow at her, “You sounded distinctly like a reporter just now. You don’t write, do you? _Because_ …”

 

Betty doesn’t let him finish his sentence. Instead, she sees a mural of wild flowers up ahead and walks towards it, “Oh wow.”

 

“If you like that, let me take you down the hallway at the end of the hotel.”

 

Still holding hands, Betty notices the handcrafted chandeliers hanging above their heads and the hand-carved furniture in the hallway. It’s very similar to the furniture in her hacienda. She concludes the craftsman, whoever he is, is definitely a local.

 

“It’s so beautiful here,” Betty sighs, “I wish I could stay here.”

 

“Well, technically _we_ can. It’s a lovely hotel, no?”

 

‘We,’ Betty thinks - yes, he definitely said _that_. She clears her throat, “So, Jughead is there anything else you want to show me tonight?”

 

“Not that I can think of. I’m saving all the best spots for our subsequent dates.”

 

“You are?”

 

“Yes, _unless_ …”

 

“They’re will be other dates.”

 

“Good. I was counting on it.”

 

Jughead turns to her again and does something unexpected. He snakes his hands around her waist, pulls her toward him and says in a rather breathy voice, “Want to get out of here?”

 

“ _Okay_.”

 

Jughead smiles down at her.

On the walk back, Jughead notices Betty shivering, so he stops his tracks and pulls her towards him, “Come here.”

 

“Whhh-aaaat.”

 

“Betty, your shaking.” Jughead puts his hands onto her shoulders, “You’ve got to wear more layers out here. It’s not like wherever you’re from, and now I _know_ you’re not from these whereabouts because it gets really cold at night in these parts. Most of the local’s keep jackets with them during the day for the nighttime shivers your having right now.” Jughead sighs and brings his hands around to the back of her head and pulls her ponytail out of her hair. Then, he brushes her blond waves around her shoulders. Betty doesn’t say anything, instead, she watches him, enjoying the feel of his hands against her head and scalp.

 

“Here,” Jughead sighs. He pulls the beanie off his head, which causes a black curl to fall down over his eye. Then, he proceeds to put his hat onto her head, ensuring that it covers her ears.

 

“Better?”

 

Betty nods and their eyes meet for another second. She can’t help but smile.

 

By the time they make it back to his house, Betty is still shivering a little. Jughead pulls her inside and leads her over to his couch. He grabs an Indian blanket off his chair and wraps it around her shoulders.

 

“Where are you going, Juggie?” She watches him walk off in the opposite direction of the couch.

 

“To the kitchen.”

 

Betty watches as he pulls a box out of the cupboard.

 

“Do you want some hot chocolate? You look like you could really use it.”

 

“Okay.” Betty turns around and sinks into the couch; this is her favorite part of the evening with him: drinks _and_ subsequent cuddling.

 

He returns a few minutes later with two large mugs and hands her one and places his onto the end table. Then, he pulls her legs up and sets them on his lap. Betty watches as he pulls her boots off her feet. When he sets her feet back down, he pulls his own shoes off and tosses them aside with a smirk. For some reason, the gesture makes her giggle.

 

“So, what’ll it be – tv or more tv?”

 

Betty just laughs.

 

“Very well, then. TV it is!”

 

Betty puts her mug of hot cocoa down and watches as he turns the tv on. He grins as he flips through the channels one by one.

 

“Let’s watch something truly mindless, shall we?”

 

“So, sports?”

 

“Exactly.” Jughead turns on a football game, and then, without warning, pulls Betty onto his lap and wraps his arm around her waist, “Perfect.”

 

Betty just stares at his face and waits patiently. They continue to watch tv for another twenty minutes like this. Betty gradually shifts out of his waist and lays against his chest. He looks down at her and wraps his arm around her shoulders. Betty sighs at the contact.

 

“Betty?”

 

Betty looks up at him, eyes pleading for him to do something, “What?”

 

Jughead runs his fingers across her cheek and before she knows it, his lips are on hers. The kiss is gentle and soft. Betty wants this feeling of closeness to continue, but before she knows it, he’s pulled his lips away from hers.

 

Betty smiles as Jughead pulls her onto him. They lay like that for a while with neither saying anything to the other. Later, Jughead pulls her face to his, but in lieu of kissing her, he asks a question.

 

“Do you want to go for a walk?”

 

Betty nods as Jughead leans down to kiss her again.

 

“I want to show you something. But first, let me grab you one of my coats to wear, yeah?”

 

Betty nods. She can barely move (in truth, she’s still reeling from the kisses). As she gets up, she feels her lips with her fingertips. Their tingling.

 

Jughead comes over to her side and swings his jacket around her, helping her arms into each arm hole.

 

“Where are we going?”

“There’s a view at the top of the mountains that I want you to see. There’s a full moon out tonight, so it’s going to be spectacular.”

 

“Okay.”

…

They walk silently for ten minutes hand in hand. When Betty looks over at him, Jughead smiles shyly and looks down at the grass beneath their feet. When he looks at her again, she can make out his face clearly because of just how bright (and ethereal) the moon above them is.

 

“Just a little longer now, Betty. It’s just over this hill.” Jughead points up ahead, “ _There_.”

 

Once they get to the top of the hill, her eyes do a quick panoramic take of the view ahead. Betty can clearly see the whole of Santa Fe beneath them. While moon has colored the hills and sky in a twilight blue hue, the town below looks more like a flaming candle planted in a sea bed; the twinkling lights inside its interior make the adobe look like burnt embers.

 

“Breathtaking.” Betty turns to Jughead and grabs his hands. She leans into him, but just as their lips are about to meet again, they both hear the unmistakable sound of a scream emanating from beneath the mountains.

 

“Jughead? _Oh my god_. What’s happening?!” Betty turns around and hears the blood-curdling scream again; it’s piercing.

 

Jughead looks visibly shaken, Betty can tell.

 

“You stay here and I’ll go look, Betts.”

 

“No, I’m coming with you.”

 

Jughead pulls her face to his, “Okay, but stay right behind me, yeah?”

 

Betty nods silently.

 

As they make their way down the mountain, they see movement up ahead, but can’t quite make out who (or what) it is. Then, they hear it again: one _very_ final, piercing scream. Both of them clearly have the same idea – someone is in peril – so, they both run towards the sound.

 

After about five minutes, Jughead sees _it_ and stills completely. He knows Betty is two paces behind him and hasn’t seen _it_ yet. When he hears her right behind him, he holds his arm out to halt her from going any further. He’s stern about it, too, as he says, “Betts – don’t.”

 

Betty attempts to push his arm out of the way, but instantly regrets it when she does. Betty covers her mouth and turns away from _it_ and Jughead completely. Jughead pulls her into his arms as she begins to sob uncontrollably. Jughead runs his fingers through her hair and pulls out his phone. His voice is still shaky when he utters, “Hello, Santa Fe P.D.? Yes. This is _he_. I’d like to report a murder.”

…

Betty is sitting on a rock about ten paces from the body when Jughead walks over to her. They’ve both already given their statements to the police, who have given them the okay to head home for the night.

 

Jughead, who’s well aware of how Betty must be feeling after seeing such gore, kneels down and grabs her hand, “Betty?”

 

She doesn’t say anything at first so he puts his free hand onto her shoulder, “Hey. It’s okay. I’m here.”

 

Betty begins to cry again.

 

“Betty,” Jughead says softly, “Do you want to go home…back to my place?”

 

She just nods.

 

“Come here.”

…

When they go back to Jughead’s house for the second time that evening, Hot Dog is still sleeping in the corner of the room, completely unperturbed by the nights events. Betty still isn’t talking, so Jughead pulls her onto him as they sit down on the couch. He turns on the tv and just holds her. After a few minutes, Betty begins to cry. The cries give rise to uncontrollable sobs as Betty cries onto his shirt. Jughead doesn’t press her to talk. After a few minutes of crying, the sobs dissipate as she looks up at him.

 

Jughead runs his thumb against her cheek, thinking he would do well to soothe and perhaps allay her fears a little bit. After all, she probably doesn’t want to spend the night alone after seeing _that_.

 

“Do you want to stay here tonight, _with_ me?”

 

Betty nods.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

 

She shakes her head.

 

“Yeah, me neither. How about I get you a pair of pajamas and you can go take a hot shower? Old Hot Dog and I will just wait for you on the couch out here.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Come on.” Jughead grabs her hand and leads her into his room. Normally, Betty would love this part, (a tour of the room usually preceded a make-out session _or more_ ) but not tonight. Not after what she just saw. She watches as Jughead grabs a pair of pajamas from a tall, wooden dresser. Then, he opens the door to his bathroom and quickly grabs a fresh towel from a shelf below his sink, which he sets on the counter just for her.

 

“Here, Betts.” He hands her the pajamas. I’ll be out in the living room if you need me, okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

Jughead presses a kiss to her forehead and disappears from the room. Betty appreciates the gentle way he’d handled her sobbing (and well, everything really) up to this point. She slips quietly into the shower and allows the feel of the hot water against her skin to let her forget (even if it’s only for a little while). And it _does_ work (at least, for a few minutes anyways). As she steps out of the shower, she dries her hair and pulls his pajamas on. She doesn’t bother wearing a bra, not because she’s trying to seduce Jughead by any means – _no_ – she’s still reeling from the events that took place merely an hour before.

 

Betty steps out into the living room, “Showers all yours.”

 

Jughead grins when he catches sight of her in his pajamas, “You look cute.”

 

Betty smirks.

 

“Have a seat,” He motions for her to come forward and take his seat on the couch, “I’ll be back in ten, okay?”

 

Betty nods. She walks over to the couch and slumps down, glancing briefly at Hot Dog. As her eyes gaze at the tv, she tries to forget. She grabs a blanket and curls it around her legs and toes. After ten minutes, Jughead reemerges from the shower in a pajama set that is nearly identical to the one she’s wearing with one exception: he’s wearing a tight white tank top (which Betty is secretly grateful for) it allows her mind to think of him shirtless, which is preferable to dwelling on the dead body she just saw.

 

Jughead sits down on the couch and pulls her into his lap. Betty relaxes against him for a little while longer, holding his chest against her cheek. It feels like an hour has passed when Jughead looks down at her, “Betty?”

 

“Hmm.”

 

“Do you _want_ to go to bed?”

 

“Okay,” Betty whispers, unsure of _why_ she’s suddenly have butterflies in her stomach. Jughead grabs her hand and she follows him into her bedroom. He turns the overhead light off first. Once it’s dark, he goes over to his desk and turns the lamp on, which emits a soft glow across the room. Then, he pulls the navy comforter and sheets down and says, “after you” in a way that lightens the mood. After Betty wedges herself comfortably under the covers, Jughead crawls in next to her and turns off the light. Betty doesn’t say anything at first. She just looks at the ceiling and stares, not wanting to think about _it_ because if she does, she thinks she’ll start crying again.

 

“Come here,” Jughead immediately pulls her against his chest, not in a pushy way – _no_ , in a way that’s more comforting than anything else. He pulls his right hand out of the sheets and just as he’s about to turn on the lamp, Betty grabs his hand.

 

“No, leave it on for now.”

“Are you sure?”

 

Betty nods and snuggles up to him. Jughead looks up at the ceiling and begins to run his hands through her hair.

 

Betty, though, can’t think about anything other than the dead body earlier. There was blood strewn all over the red earth. And it ( _the body_ ) had looked like leftovers from a ritual sacrifice. Betty feels her lower lip quiver as the image flashes across her mind again. Then she bites her lip and clenches her fists together. Jughead, clearly sensing her anxiety, grabs her fist and gently unfolds her fingers. He rubs them and holds her hand, pulling it down to relax against the sheets with his own. Betty sighs at the contact.

 

Betty thinks back to the kiss they shared and just how warm and soft it felt against her lips. It was everything she had wanted for this night. She didn’t have to kiss him. Instead he’d kissed her and made her heart sing. And now Betty wants more. She had wanted more anyways, but now she has a two-fold need. The first, is to forget that she just witnessed the aftermath of a murder. And the second (Betty feels heat pool between her legs as she allows her mind to _finally go there_ ) is to feel his lips against her own. And so, Betty lifts her body up and says to Jughead, “Can you turn the lamp off now?”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

Betty nods. Once his fingers comply with her command, his room is darker now. When Jughead lays his head back down against the pillow, Betty presses her lips to his. She feels him sigh beneath her as his hands come around to her face.

 

“Now that is more how I envisioned our night going, nameless. _Before_...” Jughead’s voice trails off, he doesn’t bother to finish his sentence.

 

“You’re still calling me _that_.”

 

“I know. I’m just teasing, but there are still some things I don’t know about you. And it’s not like I haven’t asked.”

 

“Sorry,” Is all Betty can manage to say (and she truly means it).

 

“Why the secrecy, Betts? You don’t have to be so guarded around me all the time, I don’t bite.”

 

“It’s because of my ex-boyfriend.”

 

“Things ended badly I take it?”

 

“Yeah. I don’t want to talk about that tonight, it that okay?”

 

“More than okay. Thanks for telling me that.”

 

Betty nods and lays on his chest again.

 

“Well,” Jughead says, “Like I said before, I had envisioned our night going _a little_ differently.”

 

“ _Me too_.” Betty sighs into his chest.

 

“Well, how did you envision it?”

 

Betty sits up again and presses her mouth to his. He looks up at her and smiles, threading his hands through her hair as she kisses him again. The mood in the room turns quickly as Jughead deepens Betty’s desperate kisses. He flips her onto her back so he’s hovering over her as they begin making out, his lips trailing down her neck a little. And just like that, Betty’s forgotten. Now, all she can think of in this very moment is the feel of Jughead’s hot breath and lips pressed to her neck.

 


	6. a revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: A date beneath the Santa Fe moon. 
> 
> Lyric Credit: The lyrics mentioned in this chapter are from song is "The Night We Met," by Lord Huron.
> 
> Please comment. Thank you.

6.

_**Santa Fe, A Paradox.** The climate here begs for rain, yet there is none to be found. Strange, isn’t it, that the mountains would be covered in a blanket of crisp white snow, which is constantly refreshed night after night – and yet, there is no snow (or wet relief) for the scorched and crimson earth beneath the valley. Does it seem fair, then, that the mountains should be cloaked in wet, white splendor when the valleys beneath them lay bare – a mere afterthought in comparison to the peaks above them?_

_**J. Jones**      _                                                                 

…

She’s surprised. Kissing Jughead isn’t merely an escape – _no_ , kissing him feels like home. If Jughead hadn’t stopped their kisses, Betty is _almost_ certain that she would have let him have her, which is something she’s never done before. It’s partly because of how she was raised (and if she’s honest with herself, she’s a bit of a romantic about _that_ ) but the other part is more about self-preservation. Her ex had really done a number on her; he was (and _still_ is) her only, which unfortunately is not something one can just brush aside. After all, when the one you thought was _the one_ dumps you, who else do you have to compare them to? Especially because Betty never thought she’d have to.

 

Betty walks halfway down a meadow covered in saffron flowers when she hears ‘Good morning, nameless.’ She continues strolling through the grass when she hears her name again – “Betty! Wake up!” Now she knows she’s dreaming; she doesn’t wake from her slumber until she feels his fingers touch her face. When she opens her green eyes, she sees a large pair of baby blues in front of her and for some reason, she just _laughs_.

 

“ _Wow_. And now your laughing at me? Well, good morning to you too!”

 

“Sorry,” Betty plays with his hair, it’s just that I’m not really used to waking up next to someone and your hair – it’s just all over the place. Jughead grins and rolls his eyes as she tousles his hair; he lets out a sigh as she smiles.

 

“Do you want to get breakfast somewhere, eat in? Your choice.”

 

“Can we stay here?” Betty’s upper teeth nibble on her lower lip as her hands splay beneath the cotton sheets.

 

“That works, yeah,” Jughead brushes his knuckles against her jaw and leans in to kiss her. It’s a soft, melt your shoulders kiss, the kind she has a weakness for (or perhaps it’s all _him_ ); even after he’s pulled away, it lingers.

 

“Be right back.”

 

Betty slumps back into the pillow, takes a quick look around his room and notices a wooden frame of a young girl on the end table beside her. She picks the frame up, touches the glass and grins. The girl in the frame can’t _not_ be his sister ( _or relative_ ) because she has the same big blue eyes and curly dark hair; there’s something a little lighter about her smile though. Jughead, she’s noticed, occasionally looks a little melancholy, despite his best efforts to smile around her. Usually he only does a half smile, but last night she’d seen him smile at her fully when she kissed him (and she’d very much like that smile to make a return).

 

Betty grabs the tv remote next to her and turns on the television. She flips through a couple of channels when Jughead pops his head back in through the doorway of his room.

 

“My fridge is looking quite sparse; how do you feel about eggs and toast?”

 

“I feel like it’ll have to do.”

 

“Sorry. If you’re up for it, I can take you out to breakfast. We can probably still make it if we leave in a few.”

 

“I was just giving you a hard time. No, we can stay in. Your bed is really cozy and I don’t feel like moving from this spot just yet.”

 

“Alright, be back in a few.”

 

Betty turns up the volume on Jughead’s flat screen, but doesn’t really pay attention to the tv. As her mind wanders, she begins thinking about last night and all at once the vivid images come flooding back to the recesses of her mind. Blood, gore, skin split wide open – _death_. She remembers the vacant expression on the man’s face – it was one of horror comingled with surprise. And based on the bloodcurdling screams they both heard from the top of the mountain, he had very likely been in great agony when he died. She thinks of the scene again and just loses it. She looks around his bedroom for something to latch onto (at this point, anything will do). She grabs the blanket at the edge of the bed and scrunches it in front of her face as if it’s somehow going to soothe her cries (or make her forget). This is definitely _not_ how she wants to start the day, Betty thinks, having a complete meltdown in Jughead’s bed of all places. When Jughead returns a few minutes later with a plate of food, she’s still sobbing uncontrollably.

 

“All I have is whole wheat toast, I hope that’s alright – _Betty_!”

 

Jughead sets the plates down on his desk with a light clink and runs over to the bed, pulling her onto him, “Hey, it’s okay. _I’m here_.”

 

Betty crawls into Jughead’s lap, wraps her arms around him and sobs as she attempts to speak, but her words only come out in short spurts, “Do you think someone _tortured_ that man? His throat was slit and there was blood _everywhere_. I couldn’t tell where the red dirt ended and the blood began. And those markings, the gashes, _they looked_ …”

 

Jughead attempts to comfort her by cradling her head in his hands, “I hope not, but I won’t lie to you - my mind went there, too.”

 

“It did?” Betty looks up at him, eyes searching for something. Perhaps a confirmation that she’s not overreacting.

 

Jughead nods as he wipes a tear off her face, “Listen, why don’t I call into work today, I’m almost certain that I can get the day off…you know, potential witness to a murder and all. Scarred for life, can’t cope for the next 48 hours…”

 

Betty’s mood breaks as she lets out a laugh, “That’s _so_ …”

 

“Morbid? Terrible that I would use a man’s death to skip work?”

 

“Yes.” Betty wipes the last bit of moisture from her face, “You have quite a dark sense of humor there, Jug.”

 

“Perhaps, _but_ I get to spend the whole day with a beautiful woman, so I’d say things worked out in my favor today.”

 

“I don’t want you missing work because my inability to handle the sight of blood.”

 

“Betty – _my god_ , your allowed to be upset over what happened. I’m just glad it didn’t ruin our night completely.”

 

“Me too,” Betty says quietly as her eyes automatically go to his lips. Last night she’d all but memorized them.

 

Jughead grins and leans in to kiss her. She sighs as he pulls away from her.

 

“Listen, try to eat something for me. I’m going to make a quick phone call, yeah?”

 

Betty nods in agreement. It seems like the soundest decision for now anyways.

 

“Be right back, okay?” Jughead plants a kiss against her forehead and slides off the bed with ease.

 

Betty sighs as she walks over to his desk and grabs the plate. It’s only then that she notices a notebook with some dog-eared pages and handwriting sticking out from one of the loose-leaf pages; it’s clearly been torn out and replaced haphazardly between the binding. Betty overhears Jughead talking on the phone and in a moment of sheer curiosity, quickly grabs the notebook. When she opens it, she gasps. So, he’s a writer of poetry no-less and other things – short stories perhaps. Betty’s eyes widen as she flips through the pages. She places a few fingers against her mouth when she finds something intriguing _: Jughead’s private thoughts about Santa Fe, New Mexico_. Her eyes take in the handwritten paragraph line by line.

 

**_Thoughts on Santa Fe, November 2017._ **

_Santa Fe weather is almost a tragicomedy, only the show is one of perpetual duration. When night falls, thin veils of ice cover the streets and aloe plants. After several hours, there is light snow on the ground. At daybreak, the city becomes a desert again, hiding all traces of the ice that enveloped its walls and fences only hours before. The only constant in the city is the skyline; its “azul” as the natives say, not blue._

 

“See anything you like?”

 

Betty stands up straight and turns around, “Sorry, I was…”

 

“Reading my private journals, yeah you were.” Jughead grabs the spiral from her, closes it, and places it back onto his stack of papers, “Honestly, Betty, you’re going to know everything about me and I still don’t know that much about you.”

 

“Sorry,” She says quietly. She wants to tell him more about herself ( _really_ ), she’s just a little fearful of being that vulnerable with someone again. But then she thinks that perhaps that’s a bit unfair to Jughead – he’s been nothing but a perfect gentleman.

 

“It’s ok. Listen, I have to go into work really quickly. Apparently, _they_ need me for ten minutes, but I’ll be right back. Will you be alright?”

 

“ _They_ need you?” Betty wonders what he means.

 

“Yeah, I’m kind of the boss,” Jughead waves his hand playfully in the air, “Upper management, fancy title and all that jazz.”

 

Betty giggles.

 

“Do you want to come with me?”

 

“No. Actually, would it be too much trouble to ask you to drop me off at home?” Betty bites her lip, hoping she isn’t inconveniencing him,” I should probably change.”

 

“Why? I like you in my pajamas; they look very endearing on you.”

 

Betty blushes. All at once she remembers that she isn’t wearing a bra, so she’s grateful that his collegiate style ‘S’ tee is made of semi-dark fabric.

“ _Kidding_ , alright.”

 

“I’m going to finish this food though. It was sweet of you to make me breakfast. Sorry for my, whatever that was earlier.”

 

“Stop apologizing, your reaction was perfectly normal given the circumstances.”

 

“Thank you for that.”

 

Jughead kisses her, “I’m going to change really quickly.”

 

He reemerges five minutes later wearing black jeans and a white tank. Then, he throws his Sherpa jacket over his ensemble and runs his hands through his hair, which is still unruly from their morning spent cuddling between the sheets.

 

“Do you _always_ wear that jacket?”

 

He reaches for the beanie at his desk, “Yes, yes I do. You got a problem with that, nameless?”

 

Betty just giggles. She doesn’t want to say it (unsure of whether he’ll take offense or be strangely delighted with the literary reference), but Jughead reminds her of Sodapop Curtis from _The Outsiders_.

 

“What?”

 

“It’s _very_ , what’s the word…”

 

“Hipstery? I think you like it, otherwise, why would you even talk to a guy like me.”

 

“What gave you the impression that we were ‘talking.’”

 

“Your so sassy.”

 

“You like it.”

 

“Oh, I do, I love a clever retort as much as the next moody guy. Come on Betty, let’s get you home.”

…

The ride back to her home takes less than ten minutes. As he turns down the radio, Jughead looks over at her in the passenger seat and says playfully, “ _So, Betty_...”

 

“I see your using my real name again.”

 

“Since I _totally_ got off work for you, you owe me one.”

 

“Um, we saw a murder remember. You said you needed time to ‘recover’ from the shock.”

 

“Details,” Jughead flips his hand in the air humorously, “Anyways, come out with me tonight.”

 

“When?”

 

“Whenever you want.”

 

“Alright.” Betty’s thrilled that he wants to see her again so soon, “Pick me up in an hour?”

 

“An hour it is, but you’d better not stand me up.”

 

“How? By not answering the door? You know where I live.”

 

“You know what I mean.” Jughead leans in to kiss her, “See you in an hour, Betty.”

…

An hour, Betty thinks regrettably, is hardly enough time to make herself look _sultry_. She runs into her house and hurriedly scrambles to get back into the shower. She even forgets to take her underwear off and mouths ‘whoops’ as her feet tread the blue tile beneath them. She slips her cotton underwear off and tosses them onto the floor. As the water runs down her back, she turns to look at the bottles on the shelf inside the shower, saying aloud, “Shaving cream, shaving cream – _there you are_.” Betty decides she had better shave _everything_. Afterwards, she pulls a blue bottle off the shelf – it’s her most expensive body wash: _Pre de Provence Lavender_. She douses it all over herself because ‘Fuck it,’ she thinks, if Jughead’s game, she plans on having a really good night with him later.

 

Betty quickly towel dries her hair and pulls it into a ponytail. She slips into a delicate white blouse with lace trim and adds a simple silver chain to her outfit. Then, she quickly spritzes her wrist and neck with an eau de perfume – _a sensual blend of violets and jasmine_. She’s just about dressed when she hears a knock at her door.

 

“Coming!” She yells across the room as she runs to the door; her foot practically catches the corner of the southwestern rug in her foyer.

 

When she opens the door, Jughead is standing there shyly with his hands in his pockets, “May I come in?”

 

“Enter at your own risk.”

“Woah, nameless. This room looks like a tornado hit. Are you planning on going somewhere?” Packing for a trip perhaps?”

 

“ _Oh_ ,” Suddenly Betty wonders if she’s being just a tad presumptuous, “I mean, I was packing an overnight bag but if you don’t…”

 

Jughead cuts her off by grabbing her hands, “Oh no, you misunderstood me. I do, Betty, I really want you to come stay with me again tonight. It’s probably going to be a late night for us anyways.”

 

“ _Late_ night?” Betty emphasizes the word. Was he thinking what she was thinking? _Yes!_

 

Jughead raises an eyebrow at her, “Yes, they are playing live music downtown tonight at this bar, _if_ you want to go. Why, were you…”

 

“Oh, okay! Yes - I _love_ live music. That’s perfect, actually. Let me just grab my bag.”

 

Jughead just grins. ‘What have I gotten myself into,’ he thinks.

 

“Alright, I say we go get lunch somewhere and then hang out at your place until this music venue or whatever it is you have planned for us later starts.”

 

“Don’t hold back on your enthusiasm.”

 

“Sorry,” Betty turns around, shoves a few garments into her purse and says, “Ready,” and practically pulls Jughead out the door, slamming it shut behind them.

 

When they’re in his car, driving toward the city, Jughead makes a suggestion, “Why don’t we pick up food and take it back to the house. We’ll eat out tonight - _and trust me_ – you’re going to _love_ the food they have at this place.”

 

“Alright, but make it something spicy!”

 

“You got it.”

…

They settle in comfortably back at his house, ending up on the couch again where Betty drapes her legs over Jughead’s as she curls up against the cushions.

 

“This isn’t even spicy! I thought you promised me some authentic Santa Fe cuisine.”

 

“What, tamales aren’t enough for you?”

 

“I’ve had better.”

 

“Wait, now I know where you’re from. You’re from Arizona.”

 

“Wrong, guess again.”

 

“Mexico?”

 

Betty scowls, “No, those were good guesses though. How long do we have to wait until the music venue starts?”

 

“A bit late I’m afraid. What do you want to do in the meantime?”

 

She just shrugs and places her plate down against the ottoman in front of her.

 

“Come here,” Jughead grabs her, pulling her into his lap, “Since _this_ seems to be our thing, I’ll just put some crap on tv.”

 

“This is I can do,” Betty curls up against him, “Oh, but we need beer for _this_.”

 

“Shouldn’t we wait until tonight for that?”

 

“So, you _were_ going to get me drunk.”

 

Jughead looks down at her, barely brushing her cheeks and chuckles, “Well, I don’t really have to when you drink of your own volition now, do I?”

 

“No, I suppose not.”

 

“Be right back,” Jughead plants a kiss against her forehead and gets up to grab two bottles of beer, “Okay, since you’ve gotten here I am officially out of American beer. Hope you like Belgian white.”

 

“You’ve been holding out on me, Jughead.”

 

“So, it seems,” Jughead twists off two caps and returns to the couch, setting both beers in front of them.

 

Jughead pop’s out the edge of his seat and pulls Betty onto him, “It doesn’t take long before she’s downed part of her beer and is fast asleep, slumped between his chest and his shoulder. Soon her arms come around his waist as she shifts comfortably midway through her sleep, resting her head underneath his chin.

 

‘I could get used to this,’ Jughead thinks (and perhaps he _already_ has).

…

“Betty.” Jughead shakes her shoulder.

 

Betty flutters her eyelids until she realizes where she is, “Woah, how long was I out for?”

 

“Do you want to lie down in my room? You can sleep in my bed, you looked quite cozy last night.”

 

Betty considers it. She looks up at him, and in a bold move says, “Only if you come with me.”

 

“Alright, up and at em,” He grabs her and hoists her into his arms with a single swoop.

 

“I like this.”

 

“What,” Betty watches his face and he moves precariously around his furniture. He takes another side step past Hot Dog, who is slumped over in the corner. Hot Dog, she decides, is not amused by his owner’s lack of attention.

 

“You, here _with_ me.”

 

Betty tugs at the collar of his shirt and presses her lips against his.

 

After he kicks his door shut, he gently throws her onto the bed and shimmies next to her. Then he pretends to rest his head against the pillow, briefly shutting his eyes.

 

Betty giggles next to him and he opens the slit in one eye and directs it at her, “Something funny, nameless?”

 

“You look so funny when you sleep.”

 

“Oh, and you don’t?”

 

They grow quiet for a moment when Jughead pulls Betty in for a kiss. When Betty kisses him back Jughead sighs and says, “Okay, were supposed to be napping, _come here_.”

…

He leaves Betty there to sleep after she dozes off and goes into the living room. He’s already received several emails from work, but Jughead can’t bring himself to give a shit. Nevertheless, he checks his inbox anyways, rolling his eyes at the first tagline:

 

**RE: Were going to do a piece on this – yes? Boss?? Kinda need a confirmation and perhaps a publication deadline**

 

His eyes flicker to the next one:

 

**RE: Wait, you were there? Jughead, where the hell are you?! You came into the office for two minutes before we even got that report. We need to get on this thing stat.**

 

And the next one, which makes him smirk (they really aren’t supposed to be asking him personal questions inside the bounds of the workplace), it’s completely against company policy albeit a tad nosey; nevertheless, he can’t help but feel a streak of pride if they knew he was out with someone as beautiful as Betty.

 

**RE: Wait, you were with someone. Who?! You haven’t had a girlfriend in what, two years now, who is she??**

 

And the final straw:

 

**RE: You and the new hire, Elizabeth, are going to be investigating this. You can train her as you go.**

 

“Yep, not gonna happen today,” Jughead says aloud. For once, I’m not dealing with this shit.” He shuts his laptop, regretting even checking the damn thing. Instead, he goes back into his room and smiles when he sees Betty still sleeping beneath his bedspread, her golden hair fanned out against the edge of the pillows. He lays back down with her and she immediately shift so she’s against his side. It’s nice, he thinks, having someone else here with him (and so close). He wouldn’t mind if she stayed a little longer (forever, even). Soon his eyes shut.

…

“Who’s sleepy now?”

 

“Stop! That tickles.”

 

“Juggie, wake up!”

 

At the sound of the familiar nickname (his sister used to call him _that_ all the time – it was, _she swore_ , a term of endearment) Jughead sits up and shakes himself awake. Hearing Betty call him that really does something to him, it’s the faintest feeling of familiarity much like the feeling you get when breathing in a well-known scent. You know the smell, you’ve breathed it in a thousand times and yet, you can’t quite place it. But its familiar, which makes you like it instantly.

 

“It’s nighttime! Time for music and margaritas. Yes?”

 

“Margaritas?! I don’t drink those, Betty.”

 

“But I _do_ ,” Betty grabs his arm, “Come on, Juggie.”

 

Jughead rubs his eyes and grins, “That was nice. I can’t remember the last time I had a proper fucking nap.”

 

“Work?” Betty offers.

 

“You don’t know the half of it. And honestly, I never take the day off like ever, so this day is long overdue for me and I’m really going to enjoy it.”

 

Betty bounces against the edge of the bed, “Come on, I want to enjoy a night on the town before I actually start my real job.”

 

“You know,” Jughead grabs her arm, “You could oh – _I don’t know_ \- tell me where you’re _actually_ going to be working. The city isn’t that big and I might even know someone at the place. I could help you with networking. And by the way, a lot of the people that live in the city are distantly related to one another, you know, through their Spanish blood – that’s what I hear, anyways.

 

“What a concept and _no way_.” Betty says hurriedly (truthfully, she’s only half-listening to what he’s said because her excitement has gotten the better of her); she bounces against the mattress once more, “Now come on!”

 

“ _Alrigh_ t alright, let me grab my coat.” You sure are hyper after our little nap.”

 

“Yay!” Betty presses her hands together excitedly.

 

Jughead smirks and shakes his head. He smiles and they walk into the living room.

 

“Betty,” Jughead grabs his keys off the kitchen table and turns around, “ _If_ you want margaritas…”

 

“And I do, Betty claps her hands, “ _So badly_.”

 

( _Because_ , she thinks, you and I are about to have an “adult night” when we get back here. You just don’t know it yet).

 

Jughead chuckles and grabs her hand. “I think you and I had better walk there then. It’s only a ten-minute walk from here and the skyline looks beautiful during this time of night.”

…

He isn’t wrong. Though the night stills around them, the breeze combs through their hair and wraps around their necks like a cold necklace. The moon illuminates their pale skin as they walk hand in hand, with neither feeling the need to break the comfortable silence between them. The breeze rustles the skinny blades of grass beneath their feet, crunching audibly as they continue onwards. They pass several rock outcroppings, watching as a neon green lizard scampers away from them and attempts to conceal himself under a sparse bush.

 

Betty is equipped this time. She has on a light jacket, which didn’t seem necessary when she stepped out of Jughead’s trailer, but her perception changed in a matter of minutes once her feet hit the first sheet of ice on the ground. It’s a thin sheet and the pressure of her toes crushes it easily, sending the newly formed pieces of ice into jagged triangles around the ground. Up ahead, Betty sees a well-worn path that leads to the red city, which looks like fire in the night.

 

Betty looks up at Jughead, who’s been quiet most of the walk, likely lost in thought.

 

“Can I ask you something?”

 

“Of course.”

 

Betty’s insides are aflame as she awaits his response (it’s that smile of his, she thinks).

 

“Is this the first time you’ve traversed this path with someone?”

 

“Ah,” Jughead’s voice drops, “You noticed my familiarity with the area, is that why you’re asking?”

 

“That,” Betty doesn’t want to tell him she’s also curious about other things right now (people he’s dated, who else has experienced this with him, and of course experienced _him_ ), “And other reasons.”

 

“To answer your question, technically no, but it feels like I should be saying yes. The last person I walked this with was my dad.” Jughead looks up at the sky, eyes misty, “That was a long time ago. The trailer I live in right now was his, actually. He just hasn’t come home in a really long time now.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

“What on earth for?”

 

“I didn’t mean to pry.”

 

“You didn’t.” Jughead grants her a gentle smile as he steps ahead of her onto the pavement of the city; it’s separated by the blades of grades, which disappear immediately once their feet hit the cement turf.

 

“That’s pretty.” Betty motions to his right towards a stone building with a brass statute at its forefront; both the statue and the gate around the building are illuminated by the street lights and the metal lamps beneath them.

 

“That’s the Cathedral Basilica of St. Francis of Assisi. It’s been here a long time - _oh_ , and look,” Jughead points across the street to their left, “Look there’s your grandiose hotel, nameless.”

 

“You’re never going to let up about me not telling you my name, are you?”

 

“Not a chance.”

Betty hears music up ahead as they pass by several stores, some of which are already closed for the evening, but their wares are on display inside the glass panels, illuminated by the fluorescent lights beneath them. The central plaza next to the row of stores is illuminated by tiny white lights, so the entire vicinity is covered in sparkling white dots.

 

“Jughead,” Betty stops in front of a rustic store, “Look at these boots and _oh_ – that jewelry. It’s _so_ beautiful. I’m such a sucker for turquoise and silver – or any type of jewelry, really.”

 

He just grins, “I know. Some of that is made by the locals here in the tradition of the Pueblo Indians.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yes, but don’t quote me. I don’t go shopping much and some of this could be imported.”

 

“Jughead!” Betty laughs at him, slapping him playfully.

 

“What,” He laughs, “I’d like to think I’m an informed shopper.”

 

“So where are we going?”

 

“Hey, I was gunning it to get you that strong margarita. You’re the one who stopped.”

 

“Fair enough – _wait_ – when did I say that I wanted a _strong_ margarita?”

 

“Oh, you didn’t have to.” He quips playfully as Betty feels blush spread beneath her chest.

 

They walk leisurely for another couple of minutes as the music grows louder. Jughead begins walking up a flight of smooth clay stairs, helping Betty along behind him. He pulls her up onto a giant rooftop patio that’s framed with hundreds of tiny blue lights; there are also paper lanterns at the front of the restaurant, which lends it a light ambience. Betty (who’s quite charmed at this point) looks around for another minute and notices a bar up ahead and some wooden tables next to it. The stage, which is several feet off, is playing a soft melody as a crew sets up a large amp behind the musician at the front of the stage.

 

Jughead leads her over to the table and chairs, “You said you like spicy, they have chile rellenos here.”

 

“Fantastic,” Betty rubs her hands together, “Get me extra spice.”

 

Jughead laughs heartily as he grins and rolls his eyes at her. When their server brings them chips and salsa, they both go to town, with Jughead devouring the last of the salsa.

 

“You know Jughead, for someone so thin you really eat _a lot_.”

 

“Excuse me? I could say the same for you. What are you, a size 2?”

 

“You know Jug, it’s rude to ask a woman her size,” Betty crunches a chip beneath her teeth, “Didn’t you know that?”

 

“Unless she’s _really_ pretty, then she’s practically banned from being offended by such an intrusive question.”

 

“What!” Betty wipes salsa off the corner of her mouth, but misses a spot, giving Jughead the opportunity for some light contact as he reaches over and wipes it away, licking his finger, “Spicy, much like my date tonight.”

 

A server interrupts their moment when he clears his throat and places two piping hot red plates in front of them.

 

“I hope this meets your expectations, but I doubt you’ll be able to finish that – you garnished it will jalapenos. That was rather bold of you, don’t you think? I’d never do that myself.”

 

“You’re on.”

…

Once they leave the table, Betty goes over to the edge of the restaurant and grabs the adobe ledge, peering down into the street below them. She pulls her head up and feels Jughead’s arms come around her, his chin resting above her head; she covers his hands with hers and looks up at the evening sky – it’s nearly pitch-black, which makes it easier to see the white stars all around them. As her head trails downwards, she sees the faintest outline of purple framing the white mountains in the distance.

 

“Beautiful,” Betty turns around, “I’m ready, I think, for a margarita _or two_.”

 

“ _Or two_ ,” Jughead quotes her back playfully, “Be right back.”

 

Betty turns to look down into the city, watching as a roadrunner scampers below and darts out of sight. Soon, she sees what he was running from. A man with long, black hair passes by the spot where the roadrunner had been mere seconds before; he lights up a cigarette and huffs grey air into the cool night, taking another slow drag before he ventures down the sidewalk.

 

“Betty.”

 

She turns around to see him holding a large glass with pink salt against its rim, “Woah. That drink is _huge_ , Juggie.”

 

“And apparently _very_ strong. That’s what the bartender told me before she looked over at you and freaking winked at me. Let’s go sit by the bar, yeah?”

 

Betty takes a sip of the melon tinged liquid and allows him to pull her towards the bar. Once seated, he doesn’t let go of her hand, still holding his fingers over hers as he takes a sip of his no-frills drink: a yellow margarita on the rocks.

 

“Can I ask you something?” Betty sets her drink down and pinches its stem, “Do you write? As a hobby, I mean.”

 

Jughead laughs, something she hasn’t seen him do as frequently as she’d like, “Yes, _often_. Why do you ask?”

 

“Well, the notebook.”

 

“You mean, my private spiral that you decided to leaf through when I left you alone in my room.”

 

“That’s the one,” Betty grabs her drink and swallows the tart pink liquid, hoping that will get her out of saying anything else incriminating.

 

“Yeah, but its hobby more than anything.”

 

“Do you do it a lot?”

“Not so much anymore. Work keeps me pretty preoccupied these days.”

 

“Hmmm.” Betty sets down her empty glass next to his, “I guess I’m not a cheap date, sorry.”

 

“How the hell are you already finished with that margarita?”

 

“Whoops,” Betty giggles, “I’ll just get another one,” She shifts and looks at the bartender, “Can we get another round of drinks – _please_.”

 

Jughead shakes his head, “Planning to get wasted tonight?”

 

Betty scoots closer to him, planting a hand firmly against his thigh, “Perhaps, then again, maybe I just want to make sure _we_ have a really good time.”

 

“ _We_ ,” Jughead practically chokes on his drink.

 

Betty just nods. Jughead’s breathing slows as their eyes meet. (Would it be bad taste to make out at the bar, she thinks – _perhaps_ ). Soon his lips are on hers. When he pulls them away he whispers against her ear, “I’d be so lucky, but let’s enjoy this night together – _all of it_.”

 

“ _Okay_ ,” Betty whispers back to him.

 

They finish up their drinks in silence. There’s a pregnant pause between them when Betty gets up from her chair; she pulls him towards the stage at the very end of the roof. As they stand in front of the stage, Jughead curls his hands around her waist possessively, drawing her into him. Betty relaxes and allows herself to sink back into him as the band begins to play a bittersweet melody. The song, she thinks, makes her feel something she can’t quite explain.

 

_“I am not the only traveler_

_Who has not repaid his debt_

_I've been searching for a trail to follow again_

_Take me back to the night we met”_

His hands are still around her waist as Betty turns around and whispers in his hear, “This is so lovely. Thanks for taking me out tonight.”

“I’m so glad you’re enjoy yourself, but I’d surmise to say that I’m having more fun then you are.”

 

“How so?”

 

Jughead whirls her around and pulls her in for a deeper kiss. Her eyes are still shut (she’s enraptured in this moment) when he says, “ _That’s why_.”

 

“Do you,” Betty looks over at some seats in a secluded corner, thinking they’ll do for now so she and Jughead can have a bit of privacy until they get home, “Can we go over there. We can listen to the music and do other things,” she whispers.

 

He just grins.

 

Betty walks them over to a side wall, so that the shadows of the night sky conceal them from the other patrons. She wraps her arms around his neck and nuzzles his nose with her own.

 

“Oh, _other things_. Gotcha. It isn’t the best euphemism for kissing, _but_ …”

 

“Jughead.”

 

“What?”

 

“Shut up and kiss me.”

 

The breeze moves beside them as the band plays in the distance, but Betty and Jughead are no longer paying attention. Instead, they only hear the melody of the music as background noise as their focus becomes singular, each kissing the other softly.

 

_“I had all and then most of you_

_Some and now none of you_

_Take me back to the night we met_

_I don't know what I'm supposed to do_

_Haunted by the ghost of you_

_Oh, take me back to the night we met.”_

“Betty,” Jughead’s practically breathless after Betty kisses him with her tongue.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Do you want to get out of here?”

 

“ _Yes_.”

…

When their nearly at the steps of his trailer, Betty grabs Jughead’s jacket and smiles; they’re both breathing heavily now, partly from the walk back and the expectation that lingers between them. The cold night air makes their breathing fully visible to the other, their lips now mere inches away. Betty waits impatiently for Jughead to make the first move and he does, pushing her against the side of the house as her arms come around him. (He seems to have decided to stop holding back, she thinks). They begin kissing each other with gentle, open-mouthed kisses, which turns into rhythm between them; his kisses are soft but passionate as Betty returns them in earnest. After he’s locked the door to the trailer, Betty’s back is against it as he presses his mouth to hers once more.

 

“Come here,” Jughead picks her up and carries her to his bedroom in one swoop as Betty pulls his coat and plaid over shirt off, dropping each garment in midair. As Betty begins to run her fingers through his hair, Jughead whispers, “You can take the hat off,” in her ear and she does, it falls next to his door and stills as they enter his bedroom.

Once they’re on the bed, Betty straddles him and begins to kiss his neck. Once she’s freed him from his shirt, Jughead lips trail to her neck, kissing it both before and after she’s pulled her shirt off. Betty brings his lips back to hers as they begin making-out languidly. He moans and then pulls away tentatively, still breathing heavily against her neck.

 

When Betty tries to kiss him again, he stills a little. He moves his mouth away from hers as if he needs air. He can barely breath as he says, “We should stop.”

 

“Stop?” She’s confused, “Wait, why?” It seems almost forced – the way he said it ( _she thinks_ ) – as if he’s trying to convince himself that stopping is the right thing to do (when he clearly doesn’t want to).

 

“Betty,” Jughead looks at her with such an intensity in his gaze that she very nearly melts again.

 

She kisses him again and he moans, but not before separating his lips from hers.

 

“Jughead, what’s wrong?”

 

“We have to stop, Betty. _Before we_ …”

 

“Why Jughead? I don’t understand.”

 

“It’s not you, it’s just that…. _Oh Betty_ ,” Jughead holds her head in his hands once more.

 

Betty is visibly upset this time and feels embarrassed – _was she reading the signals all wrong, she thinks_. She says angrily, covering her chest, “No, I get it - _you don’t want me_.”

 

Jughead sighs against her, brushing a strand of hair from her face, “No Betty, god no, it’s not that - _your beautiful_.”

“Do you really think that?”

 

“Yes, of course I do,” Jughead trails his hand down her neck and skims her collarbone. He looks down at her chest, rubbing circles against her sternum, “It’s just…”

 

“What?”

 

Jughead rubs his thumb just above her chest again, directly in the center of her heart, “I’d rather we did that when I was firmly planted in _here_ , you know?”

 

“Oh,” Betty begins to tear up.

 

“Hey, come here Betty. Please don’t cry, I don’t ever want to make you sad. Or, is this about what happened last night because _believe me_ , I’m having a hard time putting it out of my mind, too.”

 

“It’s not that,” She whispers in earnest, “Honestly.”

 

“Okay, I know what you need,” he grabs her hand and pulls her into an upright position, “Put your shoes on.”

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“Out back.” Whenever I inevitably feel like this, I sit outside under the stars and breath in the fresh mountain air. Works like a charm.”

 

Betty follows him silently as he let’s go of her hand and heads over to the kitchen.

 

“Where are you going, Jug?”

 

“To get a lighter.”

 

“What for?” Betty stands there for a minute, wiping the last bit of moisture from her eyes.

 

Jughead shuts the drawer and grabs her hand, but not before yanking the Indian blanket off the couch and draping it over his arm. Then, he shuts the back door as he and Betty step into the night. Betty looks down and sees a circular stone pit nestled between a loveseat and a metal chair.

 

“ _Oh_ , you have a fire pit.” Betty rubs her hands together for warmth, blowing into them as she bunches her fingers together, “Okay, this _might_ cheer me up a little,” she concedes.

 

Betty follows Jughead down the three steps in the back of the trailer. She sits down on the padded loveseat adjacent the fire pit and watches as Jughead walks over to the stone pit and pulls the lighter from his jean pocket.

 

“It always takes a couple of minutes to get a fire going, sorry.” Jughead waits for the embers to appear and blows on them. After a tiny fire erupts, he turns around to look at Betty; instead of looking at him, she’s just staring at the fire.

 

“Do you want to talk?”

 

“Okay.”

 

Jughead sits down and pulls her into his lap, wrapping the Indian blanket around them gently as he pulls her feet up under the covers. Despite the blanket and his skin pressed firmly against her own, Betty still manages to shiver as she inhales his scent – it’s delicate, musky, and distinctly _him_. The cool breeze mixed with cotton against his skin makes him smell of warm vanilla and frankincense, a scent which she is slowly becoming addicted to.

 

“Sorry, it’s just _everything_ – me, what happened the other night - and I guess the alcohol has made me an emotional mess. Sorry.”

 

“Don’t apologize. Is there something else bothering you?”

 

“Yeah, it’s my ex. I’m over him, honestly, but he made me feel really badly before I moved here.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“About six months ago, we’d already split but to add insult to injury he said some really hurtful stuff to me.”

 

“What did he say, Betty?”

 

“Things like, ‘you’ll _never_ find someone,’ and my personal favorite, ‘I never wanted to marry you anyways.’ It’s not him I’m thinking about, not really. It’s just, his words…they just hurt, you know? They made me feel like I’m defective or something, like I’m unwanted and not even worthy of being happy. Stupid, _I know_ , but that’s how I feel.” Betty lets out a short gasp and stills. She can’t believe she just said that aloud, but now that she has, it feels like a cathartic release.

 

“Well I don’t know much about this guy, but I don’t think what he said was true.”

 

“You don’t?”

 

“No.”

 

As if he can read her mind (Betty was initially worried he wouldn’t like her nearly as much if she vented), Jughead leans in to kiss her; the kiss is full of promise and gives her all the reassurance she needs. Betty lets out a light huff, expelling her breath against the crisp night. Then, she wraps her arms around his neck and buries her face against him.

 

“I don’t know what else to tell you, that’s my story.”

 

“Thank you for telling me.”

 

“And what about you?”

 

“Me?”

 

“Yes, have you dated a lot of women? Sorry, that came out all wrong. Can I blame the margaritas?” Betty blushes at her own boldness (but still – she’d like to know).

 

Jughead sighs, “No, I’ve only had two girlfriends in my life and one was just a high school girlfriend, it wasn’t serious. I think we maybe kissed a whole of five times.”

 

“Oh,” Betty giggles, “Who was the other girl?”

 

“Someone I dated in college.”

 

“Was it serious?” Betty whispers.

 

“I mean, as serious as you can be at _that_ age.”

 

“What? That could mean anything.”

 

“I know, I like to keep a bit of myself a mystery, too.”

 

“Fair enough.”

 

Betty’s elated. So, he hasn’t dated that much either. She feels strangely relieved (not that there was anything to worry over, _really_ , but it’s still nice to know that she’s not the only one with a short dating history). She wraps her arms around him and gazes at the firepit. As they both stare at the soft orange embers, Betty’s decides that she wants Jughead all to herself (and she secretly _hopes_ that he’s decided the same thing). She doesn’t know for sure, but she can feel there’s something between them as his fingertips trace the bare skin above her waist. His thumb moves to her hipbone as he curves it around the edge of her bone, just barely pressing against her skin. Betty wonders how such a simple gesture can envelop her in so much warmth. It doesn’t take long before the heat of the fire makes her feel sleepy. She succumbs to the soothing effects of the heat and very soon, her eyelids flutter shut.

…

“Betty?”

 

Jughead shakes her beneath him gently.

 

“ _What_.”

 

“You dozed off again. Do you want to go to bed?”

 

She yawns gently and nods. She feels Jughead plant a kiss against her head as he walks over to the fire pit and covers the smoldering embers with soot until the fire is gone. After a few seconds, the bright red lights fade beneath the coal and the scattered red cracks fade to black.

 

When Betty crawls in bed with him, she doesn’t latch onto him right away. Instead, she stares up at the ceiling, lost in thought as she expels a gentle sigh.

“You okay?” Jughead runs one hand across her waist.

 

She just nods.

 

“You look like you’re thinking about something. What’s on your mind?”

 

“Nothing - _okay_ , _everything_. Can we just kiss tonight? I feel the overwhelming need to be close to someone and that someone right now is you.”

 

Jughead smiles warmly as he pulls her beneath him, “Now _that_ I can do.”

 

Betty smiles as he leans in to kiss her.

…

Betty wakes up early that morning and whispers to Jughead, “Jug, I’m _so_ sorry. I have to go. I start my first day of work today. I should have told you last night.”

 

“So soon, nameless? We have at least two more hours. Stay, I’ll take you to breakfast.”

 

Betty kisses him once, “I’m sorry, I really want to, but I can’t.”

 

“Very well. Let me throw on some clothes.”

…

When Jughead pulls his car up to her Hacienda, he pulls her arm and kisses her, “Please call me later. If you can’t sleep well tonight, just come over. That invitation is extended indefinitely, okay?”

 

“I will,” And she means it, “Thank you for last night.”

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

“You not going to carry me into my place?” Betty shoots him a questioning look.

 

“I _would_ , but you said you’re on a tight schedule today... _and_ I prefer to take my time with you when I’m holding you in my arms.”

 

Betty’s stomach begins feeling butterflies as she leans in to kiss him, “See you tonight, maybe?”

 

Jughead pretends to cringe, “Not an adverb of mere possibility – _say yes_!”

 

Betty laughs furiously, “Your cute. Alright, _yes_.”

 

“An affirmative – _I like it_.”

 

“I have to go.” Betty leans in to kiss him goodbye.

…

Betty showers hastily and throws on an ironed shirt. She’s feeling nervous, but at the same time she’s thinking of Jughead and the way he held her last night (perhaps being in this new city won’t be so bad after all). Betty takes one last look at her appearance in the long mirror in her hallway. She sighs and thinks, ‘Here goes nothing.”

 

She finds the building easily enough, walking hurriedly up the steps. When she walks inside, a pretty young woman (whom she hopes is close to her age) greets her. Her demeanor seems genuine, which puts Betty at ease.

 

“You must be Elizabeth. I’m Veronica Lodge,” Veronica extends her manicured hand in earnest, “It’s so nice to meet you. Come on, I’ll take you to the back. Mr. Jones is expecting you.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Did you just move here?”

 

“I did.”

 

“Where from? I don’t think I saw the city listed on your CV.”

 

“Austin.”

 

“Oh, you’re so lucky! I hear they have the best live music there.”

 

“They do,” Betty concedes, “But to be honest, some of the locals don’t go to all the festivals because parking downtown is a nightmare, and don’t even get me started about sixth street!”

 

“Yikes – well, I think you’ll find that parking in Santa Fe is never much of an issue.”

 

“Good to know. I’ll have time to get iced coffee in the morning.”

 

She watches as Veronica knocks on the door and says almost playfully, “Oh Forsythe, the lovely Elizabeth is here. And from what I know about her, she’s already cooler than you.”

 

“He’s kind of a stick-in-the-mud,” Veronica says in a tone so low she can barely hear her, “He’s got the moody loner thing down to a tee.”

 

“Open the door Veronica, and don’t call me that.”

 

Veronica Lodge cracks the door and motions to Betty that it’s alright to step inside, “See you later.”

 

“Thanks.”

When Betty steps into the room she glances at the bookshelf on her left briefly as her attention turns to the man sitting at the desk. To her shock, she sees the blue plaid shirt from this morning ( _she had worn it!_ ) and then her eyes immediately move upwards, “ _Jughead_ ,” she nearly chokes out his name, “What are _you_ …”

 

“Betty?!” A giant smile spreads across his face (the same one, she realizes, he had last night when they were _kissing – no, scratch that – making-out_ ).

 

She just stands there, not saying anything at first. ‘You are _so_ screwed,’ she thinks. _Shit._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think? Thoughts on the song choice? 
> 
> If you enjoyed this chapter, please leave me a comment below. I love reading them!


	7. the aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: The aftermath.
> 
>  
> 
> __  
> Now that they both know, how will they choose to proceed?
> 
> Please comment. It means a lot.

7.

“Betty,” Jughead got up from his desk and rushed over to shut the wooden door behind her before grabbing her hands, “So, _you’re_ Elizabeth Cooper. Betty, why didn’t you tell me, I...”

 

“I didn’t know,” she says quietly, still standing there. She’s in shock (she feels certifiable in this moment) not knowing what to say or how to process this _at all_. Jughead is still holding her hand, eagerly awaiting her response, but she just stands there awkwardly. She doesn’t know what to say.

 

“Come here,” Jughead pulled her to the back of his desk so she could lean against it. Then, he sat down in his chair and grabbed her hands.

 

“Jug,” Betty paused, not looking him in the eye, “I don’t know if we can now, I don’t think we should…” (I am not equipped for _this_ , she thinks).

 

“Betty.” Jughead sprang up from his seat and cradled her head in his hands, “Please don’t tell me that you don’t want to keep seeing me because I’m your supervisor.”

 

“But Jughead,” Betty put her hands on his arms, fixing her gaze downwards to avoid eye-contact with him, “We can’t do _this_ , we really shouldn’t…”

 

But Jughead didn’t let her finish. Instead, he pulled her against him for a bruising kiss, which she returned almost instantaneously, wrapping her arms around his waist as he kissed her.

 

But Betty’s logical brain was determined to have a say-so about _this_ ; it kicked into high gear suddenly, attempting to override the whole _kissing-your-boss_ situation as she slowly came to the realization that they _really shouldn’t_. This could end _so badly_ , she thought, so she pushed him away, panting as she said rather shakily, “ _We can’t_.”

 

“Well, why not?” Jughead tilted his head as he looked at her, puzzled because her actions and words were completely discordant. She _really seemed_ into it, he thought. Had he misread her?

 

“Because you’re _you_.” The words are not coming today, Betty thinks, but at least that was an innocuous remark and not something _worse_. She had to keep reminding herself that she was still at work and that _this_ was a professional setting, one in which she could not (and _would not_ ) lose her cool.

 

“That doesn’t seem like a good reason to me,” Jughead chided, “Is it so inconceivable to think that two people can’t have a professional working relationship while still seeing each other romantically?”

 

Betty hoped off the desk and walked around its front to look him in the face while keeping a little distance between the two of them for now, “Jughead, this could go wrong on so many levels. You’re essentially _my boss_.” Her statement was more than a mere modicum of truth, it was a fact.

 

“Of that I’m well aware, but Betty, what if things go _right_ between us? Then what?”

 

“I don’t know,” Betty wrung her hands together, her apprehension evident in her voice and wordless gesture. Could things go right for them? _Perhaps._ “I just don’t know about this,” she reiterated slowly, her uncertainly palpable.

 

Suddenly, they heard a knock at the door. After a beat, the gentle rap sounded once more against the wooden panel. Jughead assumed a terser tone than she was used to, rolling his eyes as he said, “Come in, Veronica.”

 

Veronica walked in wearing the strangest look on her face. Betty was confused about why she was looking at them like that until Veronica sat the report atop Jughead’s desk and said, “I read the report, _Forsythe_. It was what an investigative reporter would call, _a riveting account_.”

 

“Uhg,” Jughead held his hands over his face and ran them through his inky-black hair. _She knows,_ he thought. Fuck.

 

“Yes, it was _very_ interesting. It detailed everything about the murder, and the two bystanders who were,” Veronica looked at the ceiling and smiled, “Oh, what did it say, ‘out on a date?’”

 

“ _Veronica_.” Jughead looked her dead in the eyes; it was almost as if he was daring her to say anything further. Veronica Lodge returned his look, her wordless expression conveyed it all: _challenge accepted_.

 

Veronica spread her hands over his desk, looked at Betty, and then back at Jughead, “So, what _were_ you two doing when you happened upon the body, anyways? Hmm?” Veronica quirked an eyebrow at Jughead and shot them both a knowing grin.

 

Betty shifted uncomfortably as Jughead ran past them to shut the door to his office, presumably to keep the conversation between just the three of them. But then Betty was wondering why it needed to be concealed in the first place. _And what the hell were they anyways – she and Jughead?_ Dating? Her mind began doing mental gymnastics as she mulled over the thought.

 

“Look Veronica, as much as I’m going to hate you teasing me – _yes_ , Betty and I were out on a date, but the rest of it doesn’t concern you. Your job is only to be concerned about the facts of the investigation, _nothing more_.”

 

“Except,” Veronica corrected him, “When your boss is the subject of said facts.”

 

“Shit,” Jughead covered his face again, his attempt at reticence had clearly failed, “Veronica, what can I do to get rid of you right now?”

 

“Well,” Veronica looked over at Betty and smiled. Then she turned back to him and said, “That depends, Jughead. See, I would need to hear Betty’s version of the events, too. She was the other witness after all,” She glanced over at Betty once more and asked rather pointedly, “Betty, what were you and Jughead doing that night near the peak?”

 

“We were on a date.” Betty said quietly.

 

“Veronica,” Jughead said rather tersely, “Need I remind you that I am your supervisor.”

 

“Oh, no reminders necessary, Forsythe.” Veronica batted her eyelashes, presumably to grate on his last nerve. 

 

“Don’t call me that, Ron. Otherwise, your daring me to break out my supervisory authority and use it on you.”

 

“Whatever. I have my answer by way of a verbal confirmation from her. Anyways, Betty, I’m excited you’re here, _seriously_. I’ll see you guys later.” And with that verbal exposé of their evening, Veronica turned on her black patent pumps and walked out of the room.

 

“Oh god, Jug, should I not have said anything?" Her voice was suddenly laden with regret.

 

“No,” Jughead smiled, “I’m glad you did. You acknowledge that it was in fact _a date_. I’m happy.”

 

“Wait, no. That wasn’t meant to encourage you or _this_ , whatever it is.” Betty waved her hands around in gesticulation as she attempted to make sense of everything that had just transpired.

 

Jughead grinned at her; he found the flustered look on her face endearing. 

 

“Stop looking at me like that,” Betty said as she crossed her arms.

 

“Like what?”

 

“Like you want to kiss me. It’s making me uncomfortable,” Betty said unequivocally.

 

“Is it? _Or_ is it just because you found out I’m your boss?” Jughead said.

 

When Betty didn’t respond right away, Jughead worried that he’d offended her in some fashion or another, so he quickly changed the subject, “Look, I should warn you that anything you say about us around Veronica can _and will_ be used against you. I really like Veronica. She has a solid work ethic, but occasionally forgets to hold her tongue. The last time my ex-girlfriend let something slip, well, let’s just say word got around the office pretty quickly --”

 

“Wait, did your ex work here before?”

 

“No,” Jughead cleared his throat, adding, “But she brought me lunch occasionally, just regular stuff like that.”

 

“Oh,” Betty grew quiet. So, _the ex_ was familiar with his workplace as well. Betty was unsure of what to make of that. Was she an investigative reporter too? And did they have the same college major?

 

“Listen, the reason I am telling you this is because what happened was this: my ex-girlfriend accidentally made an offhand comment to Veronica and let’s just say that word got around the office really quickly about…”

 

“Wait, I’m confused. What on earth about?”

 

“It’s not important,” Jughead cleared his throat, “I just wanted to warn you.”

 

“No, it is important or you wouldn’t have mentioned it. What did she say?”

 

“It was something about how I was ‘good in bed,’” Jughead coughed, not looking her in the face as Betty’s eyes widened, “Amway’s, let’s move on to more pressing matters…” Jughead said as he jumped up from his seat, “I have your first task, if you’re ready for it. And I would assign you something else, Betty, but in all honesty, we were both direct witnesses to the scene anyways, so I really don’t think I can get us out of this one. But, if at any time you feel like you need a break, please let me know and I’ll be more than happy to give it to you. I recognize that this is some intense subject matter, even for the most seasoned reporter.”

 

 _What was he saying?_ Betty was still thinking about what he had first said before he shifted gears. So Jughead was good in bed. She wasn’t sure what that meant exactly, but she assumed it meant that he _probably_ knew how to give a woman an orgasm (something that her ex frankly wasn’t so great at).

 

“Betty?” Jughead put his hand on her knee, “Are you okay?”

 

“What, er sorry. Yeah, I am. Wait, I’m not going to be working in your office, am I? That wouldn’t be professional.” Instinctively, Betty’s eyes flickered to his lips before she could even stop herself.

 

Jughead’s eyes widened as he responded to what she said “Oh - _no_. I’m sorry, follow me.” Jughead unlocked a door next to his office, “Your office is in here. Sorry, Betty.” Betty stepped into to the office (which was conveniently adjacent to his so that no one would really see her coming or going from his office if she didn’t want them to). _Fuck_ , she thought. When she peered inside she noticed a spacious desk, two bare bookshelves, and a couch in the corner – oh geez, she thought, _there’s a couch_.

 

“Feel free to make yourself at home here. You can even decorate it if you’d like. There’s also a small closet to the left for your own personal use, the key is in the desk, top drawer. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll have office services order it for you.”

 

“But,” Betty said quietly, like he hadn’t made the connection already, “Your office is adjacent to mine, Jug.” As if stating the obvious was somehow going to make the situation less precarious.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry, Betty. Do you want another office? If so, I’ll get it for you right away. There’s an empty one down the hall from here.”

 

Betty felt her cheeks flush. She was so embarrassed, not only by the fact that she had made out with her boss for an hour last night, but she didn’t even know he was essentially her boss and now she would be working right next to him. And _sure_ , both offices had couches, but there were no windows and it’s not as though anyone could see inside the offices anyways. They could – _no_ , Betty, don’t even let your mind go there, Betty shook off the thought, “Um, Jug - _listen_ ,” she turned to him wringing her hands together nervously, “Look, until you and I can resolve _this_ , I think it would be best if you just gave me my first assignment and I’ll just focus on that for the rest of the day.”

 

“Betts,” Jughead’s eyes darted to her mouth, “What is there to resolve? You don’t want to stop seeing me, do you?” It pained him to even say that. But he had to know, preferably now so he could go home and sulk in private. (And there would be sulking - _lots of it_ ).

 

Betty didn’t respond. She already knew she had to. ‘This wasn’t professional’ she told herself as his hand slid up her arm and then cupped her cheek “Jug, _we can’t_.”

 

Jughead seemed to understand for now, quickly dropping his hands and changing the subject matter, “Alright, your first assignment is to research tribal and ritual markings. Once you feel like you’ve covered what you need to in the report, you can move on from there and look up their usage in – _although were sort of making a huge assumption here_ – ritual murders.

 

Betty swallowed and bit her lower lip. Concerned, Jughead placed his hand on her shoulder again, “Hey, do you want to look up something else?”

 

“No, its fine,” Betty’s eyes looked at his hand, “Someone carved that design into the man for a reason, right? I’ll do it.”

 

‘I can do this,’ Betty said quietly under her breathe (it was almost more for her own benefit than his).

 

“Okay, the password to that computer is redherring21. I’ll get you a company laptop by the end of the week, if that’s alright. If you could have a small report on my desk by the end of the day, that would be great. Otherwise, no rush okay?”

 

“Great,” Betty feigned a smile, “Got it.” She turned without looking at him and went into the room, sitting down at the desk and booting up the computer. When Jughead looked at her, she smiled and then turned her back to him, fixating her attention on the computer screen.

 

Jughead stared at her back, his eyes lingering over hers for another minute, ‘fuck, how am I going to do this,’ he thought.

 

Betty ran a Boolean inquiry on ritual murders and adding the word “markings” and “native American” to the search engine. The initial results startled her; they were voluminous, a vast array of everything from expert publications, to articles drafted by ex-cops and even some rather unnerving first-hand accounts of the near-victims of attempted ritual murders. One of them, a book aptly dubbed, _Sacrifice!: The Tragic Cult Murder of Mark Kilroy in Matamoros_ , creeped her the hell out. It would have been serendipitous ( _almost_ ) save for the fact that the murder victim, Mark, was not only a native Texan, but he had in fact gone to school in Austin, Texas too – _and_ , coincidentally, attended her alma mater! ‘Here is the distraction I need,’ she thought, almost grateful for it, but equally saddened by the victim’s tragic end. The amount of resources available to her was surprising, but the sheer volume was not uncommon for an investigative reporter.

 

And for once, Betty Cooper was grateful to get lost in her work.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Before Betty realized it, it was nearly lunchtime. Apparently Jughead realized the same thing because she heard him get up from his desk, but the sound of his steps was suddenly interrupted by a loud knock and a high-pitched ‘may I come in, thanks Jug.’ Veronica rushed past Jughead before he even had a chance to talk to her.

 

“Betty?”

 

“Hmm,” Betty turned around from her desk and smiled.

 

“Do you want to get lunch? I know this charming little café off main. We could walk there, and trust me, you’ll _love it_. It would be great to get to know you too, but only if you’re up for it.”

 

“ _Veronica_ ,” Jughead said as she turned to look at him.

 

“What? I’m just trying to make Betty feel at home at her first day on the job. I thought you’d be pleased.”

 

“Well, that’s nice of you, _really_ , but I was going to take her to lunch.”

 

Betty knew that this could bite her in the ass, but at the same time she wanted to know more about what Jughead’s ex had said to Veronica. She was strangely intrigued, so she said (much to poor Jughead’s consternation, the look of abject horror written all over his pale face), “It’s alright Jughead, _really_. We can go some other time. Let me just grab my wallet, Veronica.”

 

“Great,” Veronica beamed.

 

Meanwhile, poor Jughead was feeling a bit dejected by this point, “Oh, alright.” His eyes lingered over her for a moment before he turned and walked away from the doorframe.

 

Betty grabbed her purse and coat, “Ready when you are.”

 

Veronica smiled.

 

 

 

 

 

 

As Betty picked at her salad, Veronica smiled and said, “Okay, so I have to ask. Did you _know_ Jughead was your boss?”

 

“Honestly,” Betty said without hesitation, “ _No_ and I’m kind of terrified. And I’ll be blunt with you, Jughead…”

 

“Probably warned you about me?” Veronica let out a light chuckle and took another bite of her sandwich.

 

Betty laughed, “Well, not exactly, but he mentioned…”

 

“Oh my gosh, he’s never going to let that go, is he? That was so _not_ my fault. I was talking to his ex-girlfriend and she sort of made this off-hand remark about him and later that day, I accidentally let it slip to Ethyl Muggs who works in office services.”

 

“Oh my,” Betty said, the surprise evident in her voice. She decided that now would be a good time to lay all her cards on the table. After all, this lunch date with Veronica was about gleaning information about Jughead. “Veronica,” Betty cleared her throat and smiled apologetically, “ _Look_ , I know I don’t know you that well, but truth be told I don’t have a lot of friends here and I kind of just – _well_ , I went to lunch with you because you seem affable and friendly enough, but also because I really wanted to know more about Jughead. I’m sorry if that makes me sound awful, but there it is. And now, with finding out Jughead is my supervisor, well, I just don’t really know what to do. Can you tell me a little bit about him? _Or_ we can just stop right here, you’re call.”

 

“No worries, girl. _I’ll bite_.” Veronica grinned and dropped her voice, “First of all,” she said in a rather hushed tone, “From what his ex _implied_ \- again, not my fault she let it slip that he ‘really knows what he’s doing’ and was like ‘the absolute best’ if you catch my drift.

 

“Oh,” Betty said quietly, very nearly choking on a crouton.

 

“Yeah, but that was like two years ago, and anyways, I haven’t seen him out with another girl since.”

 

“Really?” Betty wondered why. He was charming enough. While he initially gave off a mysterious _I live alone_ kind of vibe, he had really grown on her (probably more than she cared to admit, though, for she reminded herself, again, that she moved to Santa Fe for a ‘fresh start’).

 

“ _Really._ And since you want to know more about Jughead, he puts on this broody exterior like he’s such a loner, but in truth, it’s all show. I think he’s secretly very sweet.”

 

So, she _was_ right. That was confirmation enough for her, Betty decided. “I think,” She said quietly, almost like she was giving away a secret, “That’s true because that’s how he was when we went out.”

 

“Well, since you didn’t know he was your boss, then how the hell did you both meet?!”

 

“Well, the first time I was picking wildflowers and the second time, I was grabbing coffee in town. He sort of followed me out of the coffee shop. I was halfway up the hill near the mountains when he found me and asked me where I was going. I had literally just moved here the night before. I told him I was skiing at the peak and I don’t know, he just kind of insisted that he give me a ride. Then, he tried warning me that the slope I was taking ‘wasn’t for beginners' - not that I listened, though.”

 

“Wow, Betty, he doesn’t really chat up girls like _ever_. He must have been really struck by you and I can see why. Your pretty and easy to talk to.”

 

“Thank you, I think,” Betty laughed as she sipped her iced tea.

 

“So what happened when you went skiing?”

 

“Well, Jughead came with me. He kind of invited himself along and unfortunately, he was right about that slope. I ended up spraining my ankle for a few days.”

 

Veronica took a sip of tea and said, “Wait, if he was there with you when the sprain happened, then how’d you get home? What happened afterwards?”

 

Betty blushed. She thought of them cuddling on his couch that night. Perhaps she wasn’t ready to spill everything just yet.

 

“You are bright red right now, you know that? Seriously, _please_ tell me. I won’t say anything to Jughead.”

 

“Nothing like _that,"_ Betty said with a light laugh,adding, _"_ He was just _really_ sweet. He ended up carrying me home and then asked me out on a date that same night.”

 

“Really? _Wow._ He must be seriously smitten with you. He’s not my type at all, but he’s not bad looking. There was a delivery girl who was pretty that had a serious crush on him – but he never even looked her way. And she was _quite_ pretty, although not nearly as pretty as you are.”

 

“Seriously?”

 

“Yes. As I said, Jughead likes to pretend he’s ‘a loner who’s not looking to date,’ but everyone in the office knows he’s a hopeless romantic. I even caught him reading a worn copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ once,” Veronica added with a whisper.

 

Betty turned bright red, “Veronica, please don’t tell Jughead about what I asked you. Look, it’s just that I had no idea he was my boss when I started seeing him and I’m just...not sure how to proceed.” Betty began to wrap her hand around the back of her neck as she looked down at the table, still feeling completely overwhelmed by everything.

 

“Wait, ‘seeing him?’ How many dates have you two been on now?”

 

“A lot.”

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

“No, it’s not like that, he’s a real gentleman.”

 

“I freaking knew it,” Veronica slammed her hand down on the table, “We all knew it at the office. Does he hold the door for you _and_ pay for dinner?”

 

“Yes to all of that,” Betty grinned. “But listen Veronica, please keep this between you and I, alright? And besides, I’m honestly not sure I can keep seeing him now that the circumstances have changed so much.”

 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, isn’t dating your boss somehow against company policy?”

 

“Actually, _no_. At least, in our book if you already have an established relationship prior to the person working there, it’s totally fine.”

 

“Seriously?” Betty was surprised. Most places usually frowned upon the whole _boss-dating-the coworker_ scenario.

 

“Yes, it says that in the bylaws, and Jughead _knows that_ , which means…” Veronica grinned.

 

Betty finished the sentence for her, “As long as the relationship was established prior, it’s fine.”

 

“And, _did you_?”

 

“Did we what?”

 

“Establish a relationship?”

 

“I’m not sure, I mean…” Betty was unsure of what to say; in truth, she hadn’t given it too much thought until now. _Did they?_

 

“It’s either a yes or a resounding _no_ , so technically, Betty, the ball is in your court now. You get to decide what you are Jughead are.”

 

“Oh,” Betty said, “I seriously hadn’t thought about it.”

 

“Well, have you spent the night at his place yet?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“More than once?”

 

“Yes,” Betty bit her lower lip. She could feel her cheeks heating as Veronica's questions became more intrusive. 

 

“Alright,” Veronica took a swig of tea before saying, “Girlfriend.”

 

“Wait, how did you jump to that conclusion?”

 

“Betty, that’s an easy one, hon. If he’s paying for your meals, being a gentleman, and your spending the night, your practically his girlfriend anyways.”

 

“I suppose,” Betty said quietly, adding, “But isn’t that a bit of a quantum leap to make?”

 

“I don’t think so, but as I said, it’s ultimately up to you.”

 

_What were they exactly, she and Jughead? She had a lot to think about. And apparently, the choice was hers to make._

 

 

 

 

 

 

When they got back to the office, Betty sauntered into her office space quietly, humming as she set her purse down on the table.

 

Jughead walked into his office and lingered at the door. He paused and cleared his throat, “Betty?”

 

“Hmm,’ Betty turned around.

 

“Everything okay?”

 

Betty nodded, but didn’t say anything further, so Jughead went to sit back down at his desk.

 

A beat later, Betty’s phone buzzed.

 

**J: You’re still coming over tonight, right?**

Betty replied quickly and succinctly:

 

**B: I don’t know, Jughead. I mean, are you sure this is a good idea?**

 

Jughead responded immediately:

 

**J: Veronica said something to you, didn’t she?**

**B: Maybe.**

 

Jughead ran his hands through his hair nervously. _What on earth had she said, he wondered?_

 

Betty secretly relished teasing him, but she wasn’t about to let him know that Veronica had revealed his other ‘skill set’ to her.

 

**B: Are you worried?**

**J: YES.**

**B: Don’t be.**

**J: Come over tonight. Please?**

**B: Look, Jughead, I don’t think that’s the best idea. You’re my boss.**

**J: I understand your concerns, really. I’ll leave it up to you, but I’d really like to see you tonight.**

 

Betty felt her heart flutter, but she still wasn’t sure about this. Instead she sent another text and put her phone down beside the computer

 

**B: I’ll consider it.**

**J: That’s all I ask. :)**

 

Jughead got up from his desk and knocked on her open door, “Betty?”

 

Betty turned around. She noticed he looked more solemn and a tad more vulnerable than she’d seen him before, “Mhmm?”

 

“How’s the report going?”

 

But Betty was almost certain that it wasn’t about the report. Then, she felt bad (sort of).

 

“It’s going well.”

 

“Okay,” Jughead rapped his knuckle against the side wall, “Well, I’m here if you need anything.”

 

“Thanks, Jug.”

 

For a moment, he had another fleeting though, _‘I’m here Betty, if you still want me. I hope you do.’_

 

 

 

 

 

 

Towards the end of the day, Betty got up from her chair and went into Jughead’s office, “Hey.”

 

“Hi.” Jughead looked up from his computer.

 

“Listen Jug, I think I made some headway on that report you asked me to draft you. Where do I print it?”

 

“Oh, great,” Jughead said, sitting up from his desk, “Send it here to my printer, I’ll take a look at it. The name is ‘printer2000.’”

 

“Alright.”

 

Betty got onto google news for a few minutes as he read over the report.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Betty, can you come in here?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Betty, this was excellent. It was well-developed and covered the necessary bases in a succinct manner. Listen, if you’re ready for it, we can discuss it at length and start our investigation tomorrow. _But_ it’s a little late in the day to begin a full-blown investigation today.”

 

“Thank you.” Betty smiled, adding, “I’m looking forward to it.”

 

“Well,” Jughead said quietly (still worrying that he wouldn’t be seeing her later that night), “Since I don’t have anything else for you right now, your free to go _home_.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yes,” Jughead glanced down at the paper again, “I’m sure.”

 

“Great, thanks Jughead.”

 

Jughead watched as Betty collected her things and disappeared out the door to the office. He sighed, hoping that she would come over that evening. He wasn’t getting his hopes up though.

 

 

 

 

 

 

After 6:00 pm, Jughead looked at the clock and rolled his eyes, he’d already gone over an hour. He went to look at his phone, secretly hoping that Betty had texted him – _nothing._ He was worried now. Perhaps she had decided to discontinue their relationship (or whatever it was they had) for good. Jughead packed up his laptop, grabbed his leather satchel and headed out the door.

 

When he got home, he saw no sign of Betty. Disappointed, he decided that he better get on with his evening anyways, but it would likely be a painfully lonely one without her there (of that much he was painfully aware of already). He looked over at his dining room table; he’d been meaning to change the filter in the air vent, so he decided that he might as well do something productive to take his mind off Betty's absence. So, Jughead sloughed off his jacket and then pulled his shirt over his head, not wanting the dust from the vent to soil it. He grabbed his step stool and went to the end of the hallway to change the air filter. After several minutes he steadied the new one in place and took the old one out back, leaving it next to the recycling bin, which went unused for the most part. When he came back inside he ran over to the fridge and poured himself a tall glass of water. Suddenly, without warning, his doorbell rang. He smiled and put down the glass in the kitchen, turning to walk back towards the direction of the door.

 

 _Damn._ Betty was not expecting Jughead to be shirtless when he opened the door, a surprise, which she quickly realized was not going to help her do what she knew she needed to do.

 

“Why are you shirtless?” Betty stammered.

 

“I was changing the air vent,” Jughead smirked, “Why?”

 

“No reason.”

 

“Come in.”

 

Jughead watched as Betty walked past her and folded her hands together, “Listen Jughead, I’ve been giving it some thought and honestly, I really think it’s best if we just end things here.”

 

“You say _end things_ , as if there was something to end between us. So,” Jughead took a step towards her, “If that’s the case, Betty, then I’d like to know exactly what we’re ending here. Please, articulate it for me.”

 

He took another step towards her and without thinking, Betty’s eyes flicked to his mouth and down his abdomen.

 

“Listen,” Betty stuttered, “It’s not professional, this – _us_.”

 

“I see, Betty,” Jughead stood mere inches away from her now, “And what exactly are we, Betty? Because you still haven’t told me.”

 

“We’re friends,” Betty lied.

 

Jughead sighed, “Alright, if that’s what you want.”

 

“It is, I mean Veronica said that per the company bylaws, technically, you’re not allowed to date a coworker unless there was an established relationship beforehand.”

 

“Wow,” Jughead said, emphasizing the word, then he cocked an eyebrow at her and said in a rather sardonic tone, “You wasted no time with her at lunch, Betty.”

 

Betty sighed, “Look, it’s up to me. If I say there was nothing between us, then we aren’t allowed to date.”

 

“But,” Jughead grinned.

 

“ _But_ ,” Betty stammered, “If I say we were dating _or more_ …”

 

“Then,” Jughead smiled, pressing her further, “Then what?”

 

“Then we can keep seeing each other.”

 

Jughead took another step towards her, their mouths now mere inches apart, “So, what’ll it be nameless? Friends or something more?” Jughead leaned into her and ghosted her top lip with his own. Betty gasped and shut her eyes. She needed to avoid his charms and say what she came here to say in the first place. _Focus, Betty._

 

“Friends,” she said shakily, “ _Just friends_.”

 

“Oh,” Jughead stood there feeling limp and dejected all over again. _Fuck._ He was almost sure that she was going to say something else, “Well, Betty, if that’s what you want, then I’ll respect that. I’ll draw the invisible wall between us. But just to be fair, as I said, you are always welcome here, but it may be hard for us to stay ‘just friends’ with you visiting the trailer every day, don’t you think?”

 

“I, um…I suppose,” Betty said quietly. _She could still visit and keep things platonic, right?_

 

“Alright, well, even if were ‘friends,’ I was about to heat up some food and you are certainly welcome to stay here and have dinner _with me_ – as friends of course.”

 

“Okay,” Betty said quietly, “I’d like that.”

 

Jughead wondered what she was playing at. And certainly, he’d respect her if this was really what she wanted, but it didn’t seem like it somehow. He couldn’t read her. Instead, he’d study her as he cooked to see if she gave any indication that she was lying – _or_ , perhaps she’d let her guard down.

 

“Do you need any help cooking?

 

“Sure, let me grab you some vegetables to chop up - _if you don’t mind_.”

 

“Oh I don’t, not at all.” Betty smiled softly.

 

“Great,” Jughead smiled. Then, he grabbed a pan and begin boiling water on the stove. He set Betty in front of a cutting board with a couple of squash, “Chop these while I boil the other ingredients.”

 

“Okay,” Betty removed her cardigan carefully and set it aside.  

 

“Betty, do you want to borrow one of my shirts – for cooking purposes _of course_.” Jughead smiled as he fixed his gaze on hers.

 

“Okay,” Betty said, the light stammer evident in her voice.

 

“Help yourself,” Jughead said in earnest, “You know where they are.”

 

Betty went into his room, and pulled the top drawer open. Before she knew what she was even doing, she had peeled off her work clothes and changed into Jughead's pajamas – _again_. Shit, she thought, what are you even doing, Betty? _Really?_

 

When she stepped into the kitchen, his back was turned to her so he didn’t yet see what she was wearing.

 

“Did you find…” Jughead turned around and looked at her as she began chopping vegetables, not looking him in the eye.

 

 _Yes,_ Jughead thought, _he had her._ It was only a matter of time before she caved (tonight, _maybe_ ). Still, though, he’d give her what she wanted. And he was already fairly certain that she was trying to convince herself not to see him.

 

“How are those vegetables coming, Betty?”

 

“Oh, they’re good.”

 

Jughead turned to her and said, “Wait, Betts – _here_ , let me show you how to cut them even faster.” And before Betty could even protest, Jughead was behind her, hands in front of hers, showing her how to cut them for whatever southwestern dish he was making. Betty felt his breath against her neck and shut her eyes, “And there you have it, Betts. Thanks for chopping those, by the way. Once you finish them up, feel free to relax on the couch.”

 

Betty hastily chopped the vegetables and placed them in a bowel. Then, she went over to the fridge, grabbed a beer, and plopped down a foot from Hot Dog, who simply stared at her without moving. Meanwhile, Jughead chuckled at the fact that she was already drinking, ‘yeah, friends’ he scoffed, we’ll see how long she holds out.’ One beer down, with more to follow. _Probably._ It had already become their routine after all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

After thirty minutes, Jughead called Betty over to his kitchen table and sat a heaping plate in front of her.

 

“Wow, this looks fantastic.”

 

“Don’t say that yet, you haven’t even tried it.”

 

With one bite, Betty smiled and wolfed the plate down.

 

“So,” Jughead ate at a much more leisurely pace so he could observe any cracks in her demeanor, “What did you and Veronica _really_ talk about at lunch?”

 

Betty immediately started coughing and took a heavily swig of her beer.

 

“Sorry,” Jughead said politely, “I just wondered if she spilled all of my dirty secrets to you, that’s all. Because if she did, I just want to make sure I clear the air.”

 

“Some,” Betty squeaked. Then, she covered her mouth, almost not believing that she actually just said that out loud. It was supposed to be a thought in her own mind and now she had given it life by saying it aloud – _shit_. She knew where this was going and there was no way to back track this train wreck ( _or_ fuck fest) that was inevitable now.

 

“Oh,” Jughead said solemnly, “Nothing bad, I hope.”

 

“I’m going to put my plate in the fridge for later,” Betty got up suddenly and covered her plate with a paper towel.

 

“Later” He said aloud, perfectly mimicking her vocal inflection and pronunciation of the word. Jughead watched as Betty grabbed another beer from the fridge and resumed her spot on the couch. A few minutes later, Jughead joined her. However, instead of pulling her close, he simply sat there off to the side, biding his time. After watching football with her for a few minutes, Jughead looked over at her and said, “Well, it’s getting late. I’m going to shower, Betty.”

 

Betty looked up at him, her green eyes widening.

 

“ _Or_ ,” Jughead said, “You could shower first.”

 

“Me? _Oh_ ,” Betty said, “I’m not staying the night.”

 

“Yeah you are,” Jughead said with a smirk; and with that, he got up off the couch and strolled leisurely into his room, disappearing behind the bathroom door.

 

 _Fuck_. Betty knew he was right, and she could kick herself for even coming here in the first place. Friends – _sure_ , Betty. Who was she kidding. She didn’t think this could get any worse, but then _it did_.

 

Betty was engrossed in the football game when Jughead reemerged from the shower about fifteen minutes later, wearing nothing but a thin blue bath towel (and it wasn’t made of thick terry cloth either, _or_ that was all _him_ ), carrying a pair of boxers and pajama bottoms in his right hand. Betty took him in slowly, her eyes wandered to his torso and then further down before travelling upwards again.

 

“Showers all yours, nameless.” Jughead smirked.

 

Betty hoped off the couch, walked straight past him, and disappeared into his room, shutting the bedroom door behind him. Her back was to the door frame as she took in a deep breath, willing her heart to beat a little less than it was at this very moment.

 

“Friends.” Jughead said out loud as he smiled and shook his head.

 

 

 

 

 

 

As Betty showered, she kept asking herself what she was thinking – ‘Well clearly, you aren’t thinking at all! Spending the night at his house _like this_ , Betty.’ But to be fair, he had also worn nothing but a towel _deliberately_. Because of course he had, right? There was really no other explanation for it. He could have changed in the bathroom or his bedroom, but instead he put himself on display for her, likely just to call her bluff. And Betty knew she’d be lying to herself if she said that she didn’t like what she saw (and _she did_ – so much). Betty finished up her shower hastily and threw Jughead's pajamas on. She gently towel-dried her hair and sighed. She was going to spend the night, that much she already knew, and she was probably going to kiss him again, too. ( _And_ , she felt like such a hormonal mess, an estrogen-laden monster as the thought of riding him hard flashed through her mind).

 

Betty braced herself before opening the bathroom door and stepping out into his bedroom. She told herself to calm down as she walked into the hallway. When Jughead saw her reemerge from his room, he smiled and said, “Wanna watch the next game, nameless? It’s coming on in ten minutes.” Then, Jughead looked down at the coffee table and said, “Oh, I got you another beer, I didn’t think you’d mind.” He added, “Plus, your already in my pajamas. You weren’t planning on driving home tonight, were you?”

 

Betty just stared. She’d been baited and she knew it. Betty sighed and walked over to the couch, plopping herself near him as she grabbed a beer. Instead, though, she kept a comfortable distance away from him, sipping on her beer as she pretended to ignore him as he occasionally stole glances from her side profile and grinned.

 

“Betty…”

 

Betty sat her beer down and looked over at him.

 

“Would you mind sharing that blanket with me. My hair is still wet from the shower and there’s supposed to be a front moving in tonight.”

 

“Oh,” Betty looked down at the blanket on her lap, “Sure, I mean, yeah. It’s your blanket.” She conceded.

 

“Great.”

 

Betty tried to act normal as she scooted down the length of the couch, keeping about twelve inches between them as she pulled the length of the blanket towards him and wrapped her feet beneath it once again for warmth. She knew exactly what he was doing (especially because she could clearly see another blanket folded neatly in a chair at the opposite end of the room). Betty wondered how long she could hold out. She would try. _She had to._ She couldn’t just throw herself at him like she wanted to this morning when they were kissing (She’d wanted to suck him off first. Then, _if_ he’d let her this time – _ride him_ ). But in a mere matter of hours, things had changed between them completely – he was her boss now, things were different, Betty told herself as she looked over at Jughead’s side profile, his eyes glued to the game, _no_ , Betty Cooper would play _this game_ a little while longer.

 

Jughead noticed Betty shift uncomfortably twice in the span of ten minutes.

 

“You alright?” He whispered.

 

“I’m fine,” Betty said, “Just cold. Perhaps I need my own blanket,” She offered.

 

“You got it, nameless,” Jughead got up from the couch and went over to grab the other one from the corner of the room. When he returned, Betty got up to reach for the blanket, but Jughead stopped in front of her; he unfolded the blanket and wrapped it around her, pulling its sides as he cradled her in it.

 

“You know,” Jughead said (he didn’t bother pretending he wasn’t looking at her lips), “It’s a shame that we have to stay friends, Betty. I’ve enjoyed having the company of a beautiful woman in my bed every night, but I understand.” Jughead bunched the blanket together and then released it so Betty could grab it.

 

Instead of kissing her, he simply sat down and resumed the same position he was in just minutes before. But Jughead was determined to hold out, he wasn’t going to make a move on her just yet.

 

‘He thinks I’m beautiful,’ Betty smiles as his words echo in her head. She bites her lower lip and steals another glance at him. He _seems_ immersed in the game, but Betty is not so sure. Ever so slowly, she scoots closer and closer to him until there sides are practically touching. Slowly, Betty pulls her left hand out from beneath the folds of the blanket, just barely brushing her fingers with his. After a minute, Betty attempts to link her fingers with his, Jughead looks down at her fingers as they attempt to lace with his own, he doesn’t say or do anything at first. He doesn’t even look at her. But then, just as Betty relaxes, Jughead grabs her hand and before she even knows what’s happening, he’s hoisted her onto his lap. Betty realizes what a precarious position she’s in now; she’s straddling him as he looks up at her, just barely grazing her jaw with his fingers, “So, Betty.”

 

Her lips part as Jughead traces her lower lip with his index finger, “Do you still want to be _just friends_?”

 

“Mhmm,” But suddenly, Betty whimpers loudly as he shifts and gently presses his center to hers.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“I… _oh fuck_.”

 

Jughead doesn’t hesitate this time. Instead, he delivers an open-mouthed kiss against her lips and Betty is _just gone_ as they begin kissing furiously while she’s still straddling him on the couch, rubbing up against him. And soon, Jughead's lips begin trailing down her neck as Betty’s eyelids flutter shut.

 

“So beautiful,” he murmurs against her skin.

 

“Juggie,” Betty whimpers.

 

“What is it, babe?”

 

“What are we?”

 

“You know that’s up to you,” he whispers against her shoulder before lowering his head and nipping her skin gently.

 

“We’re friends.” Betty pants.

 

“No,” Jughead looks at her and says in earnest, “We are _not_ friends.”

 

“We’re not,” Betty stammers, “Then what are we?”

 

Jughead gives her a bruising kiss and places a single finger beneath her chin, “I guess you’re my girlfriend,” he says as he kisses her, “But only if you want to be.”

 

Betty kisses him again, wrapping her legs around his waist a little tighter, “I do,” Betty says, “ _I think_ I want to be your girlfriend.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yes, _but Jug_ ,” Betty pauses their make-out only briefly, “There’s still a lot about you I don’t know, so maybe we should hold off on using labels for now.

 

“True,” Jughead concedes, “But if you’ll open up to me, we can learn about each other as we go.”

 

“I’ll think about it,” Betty whispers.

 

Jughead puts one hand on her hip and glides the other down her abdomen, which is still covered with his t-shirt, “Is this okay, Betts?”

 

“What?” Betty looks down at his hand as it moves closer to her chest. 

 

“Touching you,” He says huskily.

 

Betty nods as Jughead’s hand moves above her chest. He slides it down the length of her abdomen again, only this time his fingers slide over her hardened nipple protruding from her shirt, lingering there for a moment so he can feel her. Betty whimpers; she wraps her arms around his neck as he continues kissing her. She mirrors his movements, too, allowing him to take the lead until he breaks up their kissing, smiling almost begrudgingly as he lays them both down against the couch, pulling her into him to cuddle her as they continue watching TV. He’s essentially spooning her now as he tucks her head beneath his chin and holds her close. Betty smiles and expels a gentle sigh beneath him.

 

“You wanna go to bed?” He says above her, tracing her arm with his fingers.

 

“ _Yes_.” Betty nods beneath him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

They were still kissing as they stumbled into his room. Jughead kicked his bedroom door shut as Betty pulled him over to the side of his bed. Once they slipped beneath the covers, Betty’s lips pressed against his eagerly; her hands wrapped around his face as she felt his hands slide beneath her waist as they kissed. They ended up making out beneath the covers of his bed, with Betty feeling emboldened as she wrapped her legs around his waist, rubbing up against his hardness as they kissed.

 

“Maybe we should avoid putting a label on things for now, Jug.” She said as he ran his fingers down her neck.

 

“Whatever you say, nameless,” He said with a smile before covering her mouth with his.

...

 

_**If you enjoyed this, drop me a comment.** _

_**Thanks! <3** _

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment, thanks! <3


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